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wardenparker · 7 months

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Night of the Living Wish

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: The one that got away. Cursing, alcohol and alcohol consumption, self-doubt, Steve Murphy is Big Brother Energy, wish fulfillment, magic, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex in someone else's bed. Summary: Determined to put years of pining to an end, Steve and Connie invite you and Javier to their blow out Halloween costume party the year after returning from Colombia. With the help of some very special costumes, this party is set to be a night to remember. Notes: The first of two Spooky themed one-shots for our now-annual Spooktober celebration!

It took a while to get here, and you're not sure if you're slightly embarrassed about that or not. You've sent letters back and forth with Steve and racked up long distance bills calling Connie from California, but any kind of communication with your other partner in Texas has seemed like too big of a bridge to gap. That is, until you had gotten the card in the mail from the Murphys a month ago, inviting you out to Miami for Halloween weekend.

A big costume party with their friends is their excuse to invite you out to the east coast, and since you've just wrapped up a case pretty neatly, you don't feel bad about taking a few days off. You managed to find a costume shop on a side street while you were walking around the city earlier and deftly avoided having to settle for a murderous clown or anything involving a mask by finding a nymph costume in your size. Maybe a sexy costume wouldn't have been your first choice but it isn't bad, and now you're sitting in the back of a cab wrapped in your coat to avoid lewd comments from the driver on your way from the hotel down to the Murphy's house. It will be good to see Steve and Connie again. It will. Even if you're dreading not knowing if Javi will be there or not.

******

“A fucking Halloween party?” The drink in Javi’s hand doesn’t seem nearly stiff enough as he watches Connie bustle around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the trays of food to serve.

“You know you could help.” Steve huffs, work gloves on as he load a faux cauldron with dry ice in the center of the table in the living room.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Javi asks, smirking slightly as he holds out his arms. “In costume.”

“Hardly.” Connie rolls her eyes, albeit playfully. “You’re wearing your own clothes. Like that is an outfit you would just wear regularly. I had to ask if you even knew it was a costume party.”

“Hey….” Javi pouts and then pulls the glasses out of his pocket to open them up after setting down his drink. Making a show of putting them on. “Now.” He huffs. “Recognize me?”

“Manwhore Clark Kent.” Steve jokes as he swings through the living room making sure that all the decorations are in place. He even goes so far as to adjust the plastic spider in the white webbing over the kitchen door so it’s at the most optimum angle to creep someone out.

“Ah, no.” Javi points a finger at his old partner and then flips him the bird. “Life, uh, finds a way.” He quotes, having watched the movie more than a few times because he enjoyed it. Not because of this party.

Connie snorts, mostly at the impression, and takes a bite out of a carrot stick from the veggie platter before shaking her head at Javi fondly. “Jeff Goldblum is far sexier,” she teases. “And I still say that wearing your own clothes is cheating.”

He frowns, even though he loves Connie, it stings his pride that Jeff Goldblum is sexier. “Not everything is mine.” He protests. “The glasses and the fucking pimp necklace came from that costume shop.”

“Then I stand correction.” She was teasing just to make him pout, and now that she’s accomplished that goal she offers him a beaming grin instead. Messing with Javi is one of the delights missing from her life these days and she’s glad to see him. Steve is too, although he grumbles about it more. “You did very well, Jav. Excellent costume.”

“Thank you, Connie.” He scoops her up into his arms and kisses her cheek. “And you are a very sexy Queen Cleopatra.” He smirks. “Black hair looks good on you.”

“We thought it was a fun change of pace.” Steve - dressed as Marc Antony - throws his wife a wink. They had talked about doing a little Halloween-inspired role play and Connie wanted to change up her look a little just for fun. “No snakes though, baby. Those bad boys stay outside.”

“Really?” Javi grins. “You’d look really sexy with a big snake.” He teases, winking at her.

Undeterred, Connie just smiles. “That’s why I married Steve,” she tells Javi with a wink. “Biggest one I could possibly find.”

“That’s because you hadn’t met me yet.” Javi enjoys poking at Steve, watching the man huff and grumble under his breath. Not like he would admit to his wife that his partner had him beat in the dick measuring department.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Jav.” Connie laughs, only leaving the living room when the front door rings to go and open it. “Here we go!” She announces with glee. Whether it’s trick or treaters or party guests doesn’t matter. She’s just glad to have an active night tonight.

Javi picks up his drink again and takes a sip. It’s good to see the Murphy’s again. Especially since he wasn’t sure they would stay together the last time he had seen them. Swirling his ice around, he wonders if you are coming. Steve had told him that you were in California, but he hadn’t mentioned if you had been invited.

The door was a mix, and the sound of trick or treaters is quickly replaced with the first flood of party guests. Plenty of people that Javi doesn’t recognize all come into the house in a great wave of introductions, but there is one single recognizable voice right at the end. The high-pitched squealing isn’t enough on its own, but it’s very distinctly your voice that exclaims: “Oh my god, you look gorgeous!”

Javi swallows slightly, lifting his glass to his lips to down the rest of his whiskey. The sound of your voice bringing back the next to last time he saw you. An image he had thought about more than a few times over the past year. How close he had come to crossing that line with you. Looking towards the door, he sees your arms flung around Connie and your head covered in some kind of twisty crown thing made of plastic that looks like sticks and flowers.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You’re practically in tears over it, honestly, having missed your best friend dearly since she left Colombia ahead of her husband. That was a rough time and everyone was glad to see the hard portion of the Murphy’s road smooth out in time.

“I keep telling you to trade California beaches for Miami beaches.” Connie squeezes you once more before she pulls back to look at you. “Okay…what are you with the coat?”

“I didn’t want to give the cab driver an eye full,” you admit, and easily take off the long rain jacket that you had been covering yourself with. The ‘nymph’ costume is skimpy but not overly so, just very obvious about highlighting your tits and the skirt is hiked up to halfway up one thigh…because they can? You don’t quite understand it. It’s definitely not historically correct Greek clothing.

“Hot damn, mama.” Connie whistles. “Don’t you look sexy? Steve, doesn’t she look sexy?” Turning her head towards her husband, she grins when she sees Javi nearly choke on his own spit.

“I know you said costumes from your own clothing are cheating so I—” Already halfway out a justification for the choice, you freeze in the doorway to the living room when you see “Javi?”

“Hey, muñequita.” Javi shoots you a small grin. “Been a long time.” He shuffles forward and wraps his arm around you, still holding his empty glass. “How have you been?”

“Good.” Even a measly hug shouldn’t feel this good, but you tell yourself that it’s reasonable to miss your friends after not seeing them for so long. That it has nothing to do with what almost happened. “Busy. I’ve been busy. Just wrapped another case. How’s Texas?”

“Slow.” He rolls his eyes but he can’t deny that he’s a hell of a lot less stressed on the ranch. “Meant to call you, but by the time you’re off work, Pop is snoring in his chair and I’m wiped out.” It’s a lame excuse for why he could never pick up the phone to hear your voice, but it’s the one he will use.

“It’s fine.” You had assumed that his interest in you had waned, not being in the same place anymore, and tried not to take it too hard. Or too personally. “I was just undercover for six months anyway…”

“Really?” Immediately Javi frowns, not liking the sound of that. Undercover work is dangerous and he doesn’t know your partners now.

“Traffickers.” You shrug like it doesn’t matter because honestly? You had a hell of a lot worse in Colombia. “No big deal, it took a while to get in where I needed to be.”

“You got out clean.” His brows raise seriously. Despite the fact he hasn’t seen you in a year, he hates the way that his stomach rolls at the idea of you being undercover without him watching out for you.

“I’m fine, Jav. No knight in shining armour shit this time.” Not like last time. When he’d had to rescue you from an undercover stint under the guise of a sting. That was…ugly.

He doesn’t like it, but he trusts you. Knowing you wouldn’t lie to him about that. “Good.” He grunts and bites his lip. “Drink?”

"Fuck yes." You can't help but laugh at the offer. "I spent the entire cab ride fending off the driver. I deserve it."

“Wearing that, I’m not surprised.” He’s never seen so much skin on you, unless you count the night he was pulling off your- no. He can’t think about that. He wouldn’t survive tonight if he started thinking about that.

“I had a coat on,” you defend, knowing that you had worn one for exactly that reason. Some men just can’t help themselves. They have to comment — or worse. “But now you owe me a fancy drink,” you insist, falling back on your old habit of teasing Javi. “You can’t bust me about my costume when you showed up in your own clothes.”

“I didn’t show up on my own clothes.” He pouts as you obviously don’t recognize the genius behind his costume.

“You totally did.” The shake of your head is amused, though, and you nudge him toward the counter beside the kitchen where the Murphy’s have set up a bar. “I saw Jurassic Park, Jav. Just because you own the same clothes as Ian Malcolm doesn’t mean it’s a costume.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t wear these stupid glasses.” He reminds you. “Or wear a chain. Or a bracelet.” He holds up his wrist as proof.

“You bought accessories.” The grin you flash at his pouty annoyance is genuine and you grab a bottle of rum to shake in his direction. “Please, Jav?” You give him your best innocent eyes when she crosses his arms at you and motion to the whole bar of ingredients and mixers. “You make way better mojitos than I do.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs, but he snatches the bottle from you. “You can never make a decent drink, muñequita.” He teases you.

“Maybe not.” It’s so easy to fall back into old patterns with him. The teasing and natural flirting that you never even realized you were doing until Murphy had called you on it one night in a stake out. “But I open a mean beer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a necessary skill to have.” He smirks. Almost about to say something sexist but he knows you will punch him. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. See if Connie has some mint leaves.”

“I guarantee she does, because you’re here.” The only person who loves Javi’s mojitos more than you is Connie, so you are more than certain that she is prepared. “So what have you been up to?” Even a small lull in conversation is too much for you to consider, and you aim for small talk instead.

“Nothing but fixing fences and trying to keep my pop from killing himself.” Javi snorts, guiding you into the kitchen and over to the bar so he can make your mojitos.

“It must be nice to see him again.” At least you hope it is. You’d hate to think Javi’s been unhappy. Regardless of whatever did or did not end up happening between you, he was still your partner.

“Of course it is.” Javi moves with sure hands. Eyeballing the measurements and looking up at you. “Have you been liking California?”

“Sun, surf, and beautiful people. What’s not to like?” That’s what you keep telling yourself when you miss your friends — and Javi — during your day-to-day life. That there’s no reason not to enjoy California. But the truth is that you’re lonely despite being surrounded by people constantly.

“It’s too bright, the salt is shit and people are assholes.” Javi grunts, even though he wouldn’t mind going to see you on a beach.

“Well I guess I won’t invite you to visit, then.” You would have been too nervous to offer anyway, but at least this way it’s about teasing and you can hide that you’re a little disappointed about it.

Javi frowns, hearing the hurt in your voice and he doesn’t know what to say. “I wouldn’t mind it.” He confesses. “Women in thong bikinis are never a bad thing.” He wonders if you have one and if you wear it to the beach. Reminding him of when he was pulling- no. He can’t think about that.

“Then Miami will be perfect for you.” If all he cares about is ogling women in bikinis? He can stay right here in Florida for that. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skirt chasing by actually wanting to see you.”

He frowns even more, obviously having put his foot in his mouth again. “Muñequita….” He sighs and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“It’s fine.” You promise him, trying to act breezy when he hands you your drink and your fingers brush by accident. Sparks are not breezy, but you’re certain they’re one sided. “I shouldn’t have presumed. Anyway, um…thanks. For the drink.”

“No--" Javi is tired of the missed communication between the two of you. “I’d want to see your bikini.” He admits. Feeling bolder than normal around you. It’s easy with women he doesn’t care about. Respect, sure. He respects all women, but he cares about you. “Been trying to not think about those panties I had in my hand when the phone rang a year ago.”

“Oh.” That hadn’t been what you expected to hear in response, so when you pause it’s with your mouth half open and the glass at your chin. “I…” You’ve thought about that night every single day since, and it hasn’t gotten any easier to stomach the memory. “I wish I hadn’t picked up,” you confess quietly, setting the glass down again.

“Just would have fucking called again.” Javi snorts. “I was going home, one way or another.” He pours himself another whiskey. “Just glad I didn’t drag you two down with me.”

It was supposed to be a game. Javi had told you to pick up the phone with fire in his eyes, intent on making you cum while you carried on a conversation with whoever was on the other end. Thankfully in the end you had been able to convince the ambassador that you were only at Javi’s place for a post-work drink and you hadn’t been kicked off the case. “No…no, we finished it…” you sigh, knowing it should have been Javi to take the bastard down.

“Proud of you for that.” Javi tells you. “Watched every day news report when it came out. Even kept the paper that had your pictures in it.”

“It should’ve been you.” That has always been the private consensus between you and Steve. It should have been Javi on that roof with you.

“I fucked up.” That will never be something that he tries to shift blame on. He knew he was playing with fire. When he got burned, he accepted it. “I would have been there if I could. But it doesn’t take away from what you did.”

“We finished what you started.” For you it’s as simple as that, and you finally take a drink after shrugging your shoulders. “Fuuuck that’s good. I missed having my own personal bartender.”

He snorts and takes another sip of his own drink. Preferring to keep his own simple, he did enjoy making cocktails for you and Connie. Ignoring the way that Steve had teased him about a secret desire to be a bartender. “Glad you enjoy it. You’ll be hammered in no time.” He teases.

“Maybe I won’t mind the cabbie hitting on me all the way back to the hotel,” you snort, taking another long sip of the drink. Though you might wish that night a year ago had gone differently, it didn’t. You and Javi never got to take that next step, and now you probably never will.

Javi glowers, mumbling under his breath about that being bullshit as he takes another drink. Ten minutes with you and he’s already feeling possessive.

“Is it?” That’s news to you, but at least it’s not you and you alone who’s still sore about what happened between you.

His dark eyes slide over to you and he stares at you for a moment. “You want to be hit on by some cabbie?”

“No.” The way he’s looking at you makes you feel positively fucking naked, and not in a sexy way. Like Javi’s once again figured out how to look into your soul. “But if I was drunk I might not mind as much. Sometimes empty compliments are nice.”

“Empty compliments are just that, empty.” Javi steps closer to you, the ice in his glass clinking together. “You deserve real compliments.”

“Those have been pretty hard to come by over the last year.” Which is probably for the best, if you're honest. You’ve focused on work and enjoyed the photos of your sister’s family up in Oregon when she sends them every few weeks. In return, you send your niece and nephew goodies from California in a monthly care package. It was tough being undercover now that you have that relationship back. But it’s been tougher missing Javi. “One guy I knew used to give them out like candy. I never knew he meant them until it was almost too late.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Javi snorts, shrugging slightly. “Most guys are when they realize they aren’t good enough for what they want.”

“Oh, bullshit.” You roll your eyes at him. “You were the single most sought after bachelor in the whole damn country. Nobody was out of reach.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to fuck someone and be with someone.” He murmurs quietly. “A big difference. Finding out you aren’t worthy of a woman is a humbling thing.”

Having been sipping steadily at your drink this whole time, you stop when you realize what he’s saying and put the empty glass down on the counter. “So it wouldn’t have just been a fling?” That question has itched at you for ages, and having an answer for it is both relieving and disappointing. Knowing you were moments away from having him - all of him - makes you wish all over again that you could have not picked up that phone.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Javi doesn’t give you an answer, aware that despite everything, you never reached out to him either. You had been the one to immediately promise to be there and start putting your clothes back on. Obviously regretting what was about to happen. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Sure. Right. Why would it?” Instantly you wish the glass was full again, and you groan internally. This is the guy you’re still hung up on? Really? The least emotionally available man in all of the Americas and he is the one your heart is set on. What a joke — and it’s entirely on you.

He’s still a little bitter that every time a call was for him, it wasn’t you. It was Steve. “Yeah.” He drains his glass and sighs. “Gonna go back out there.”

“Awesome.” You’re gonna go pour more rum in your glass and hope there’s still flavour left in the sugar-muddled mint, then see if any of Connie’s friends are hot. After the left turn your conversation with Javi just took, you could use a couple of empty compliments just to feel human again.

The fact that the conversation went right where he wanted it to and then took a hard left turn pisses him off. His jaw clenched as he walks back into the room, he considers leaving. He doesn’t want to watch you get plastered and giggly. Especially wearing that little costume you’ve got on.

“There you are.” Steve Murphy’s large, pale hand claps down on Javi’s shoulder just as he’s considering running, and he smiles as jovially as always. “Thought you’d gone extinct on us,” he jokes, immediately laughing at his own bad reference.

“I’m gonna head out.” Javi tells his old partner. He doesn’t want to get in the way of your good time and he doesn’t want to remember what almost happened a year ago.

“Noooo. No, you’re not.” Fixing him with a stern look, Steve crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside Javi. “What happened? You guys were hitting it off again. There were practically sparklers going off.”

“Same shit.” Javi shrugs. “She’s not gonna have a good time while I’m here. I’ll just- swing by tomorrow.”

“She asks about you every time we talk,” Steve offers, his expression softening measurably. “She mentioned you at least twice a day every single day we were still in that shit hole. That woman is deeply in love with you and Connie set this whole thing up to get you two in the same room again.”

“Except I pay her compliments and she thinks I’m blowing smoke up her ass.” Javi grumbles. “Takes every fucking thing I say out of context.”

“Maybe be a little more forthcoming this time?” Like a cosmic big brother, Steve is ready and willing to give advice even when unsolicited. “I know you gave her the bullshit about not being good enough for her.”

“It’s fucking true.” Javi snorts. “I fucking got kicked out of Colombia, remember?”

“You’re missing the point, Peña.” Steve shakes his head in exasperation. “You don’t get to decide if you’re good enough for her or not. Only she does. So stop throwing yourself a goddamn pity party and actually let her have a say in her life.” When he shrugs again, he’s smirking. “If you still love her, I mean.”

“Pendejo.” Javi hisses, hating how raw that single comment makes him feel. “Fuck you for that.” He shakes his head and turns around to stomp back into the kitchen.

When Javi reappears you're standing by the fridge, forced into polite chitchat with a couple that Connie works with at the hospital because they came into the room while you were staring at the photo of you, Steve, Javi, and Connie from a rare night off in Colombia. They have it pinned to the fridge with a magnet and you were standing there mooning over Javi's arm being around your waist when you got ambushed by extroverts.

Javi doesn’t comment on the way that the couple are set on either side of you. Walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. Hating that things have gotten so complicated. He had meant to apologize, to explain why he hadn’t called, but he had managed to piss you off.

The best you can do is hope to catch his eye across the kitchen while one of Connie's fellow nurses talks at you about whatever soap opera she's been watching lately that you mistakenly admitted to recognizing the name of. You desperately need a rescue but can't even get a word in edgewise to excuse yourself from the deluge.

He isn’t going to look over at you. He had promised himself that he would leave you alone. Despite what Steve said, you had made your feelings clear. So he’s berating himself when he glances over to find you giving every ‘get me out of here’ signal you can give. “Hey baby, there you are.” Javi hums, walking towards you to save the day.

It doesn’t even matter that he’s playing the fake boyfriend card, although that does make your heart ache a little. You’re just grateful to be able to use the moment as an excuse to break away from the droning soap opera fan for a minute. “I was just getting to know some of Connie’s coworkers,” you explain, gladly and easily welcoming him into your side with an arm around his waist when he strides over.

“Don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” Even though he’s giving an apologetic look, he’s already turning you away. Never one to really be all that nice unless he wants something with strangers and they don’t look like people he would want anything from.

"Awe, of course not." Even thought the woman who has been talking at you looks disappointed, she smiles sweetly. "She'd been looking at that picture of you guys and now I see why. Missin' her fella."

“Yeah.” He doesn’t comment further, just pulling you close as he guides you away. “Were they as bad as I think they were?” He asks quietly as you both walk out of the kitchen.

“Honestly? I think I blacked out for a second there.” Your laugh is relieved, though, and you have to swallow the sigh that wants to bubble out of you at having him close again. “Thanks for the rescue. I guess I do still need the occasional knight in shining armor moment.”

“It looked painful when I saw you.” Javi admits. His fingers dig into your hip slightly. “And I’ll come to your rescue whenever you want.”

Face to face with him again, you feel that knot of guilt twist in your stomach again and swallow a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you murmur, when the two of you come to a stop against one wall of the crowded living room. “I should have.”

“It was better that you didn’t.” Javi tells you. “For your career. You don’t want to be associated with me. My name is dirt.”

“I don’t actually give a shit,” you tell him with a shrug, leaning against the wall and a little against his side. “If nothing else…even if nothing had happened? I still care about you. And I should have called.”

“I picked up the phone a dozen times.” He admits quietly.

“We’re such a fuckin’ mess.” Laughing at yourself makes it slightly better, even if the whole situation still makes you ache.

“Cautious.” Javi prefers that. “We know how hard it is to be in a relationship with our - your - job.” He reminds you, nodding towards the living room. “Almost broke up the best damn couple I know.”

His hand is still at your waist, his shoulder firm beside your head, and lean into him that much more without even meaning to. “Does that mean it’s not worth trying?” You ask, actually voicing the question that’s been in your mind for longer than you came to admit.

“I never said that.” He mumbles, turning and staring at you somberly. While he might think that you deserve better and shouldn’t get involved with him, he respects you enough to let you chose your own path.

“I…kinda hate California,” you admit quietly, although a smirk has reached your lips. “I know that’s sacrilegious and everybody’s supposed to love LA, but I…asked to be transferred out of Graceland.”

“Where are you planning on going, muñequita?” He asks, his thumb rubbing your side as he continues to hold you close.

“I’m not sure yet.” Between his warmth and more than a little bit of rum, you feel soft and as best to relaxed as a government agent ever gets. “Gonna stay on the border to stay most helpful, I know that for sure.” You bite the corner of your mouth and look up at him. “I was thinking…maybe Texas.”

“Yeah?” Javi’s brow shoots up and he looks over at you. “Any reason why?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

"Depends." You could swear there is hope in his eyes, and it twists your stomach like a knot. "If I tell you the truth are you gonna deflect or are you gonna accept it?"

“All things are plausible with Chaos Theory.” Javi changes his voice to sound like Ian Malcom and shoots you a grin.

"Jav--" Despite snorting a laugh at the dead-on impression, you shake your head. "I'm serious."

“You’ve already done it.” Javi rationalizes. “So tell me why you did.”

Suddenly the reasoning seems so small. It isn't the grand romantic gesture that you imagined when you had signed your transfer request, it's awkward and presumptuous and full proof that you got in over your head with him. Like that first kiss you shared broke the seal on your reasonable thinking or something. "Because..." A slight shiver shakes through you and you know it's just nerves but it's fucking embarrassing, so your voice drops to even lower and quieter than before. "--I still love you."

The confession hits Javi square in the chest, warming him inside and out. Especially sweet because you know of his past, you were there while he was living it out. “That’s good.” He murmurs, his lips curling up. “At least we will both get the ‘I told you so’ from Steve and Connie.”

"How so?" Javi has dozens of quirks to his smiles, and this one is equal parts pleased and full to the brim with mischief. This is the Javi who dragged you out to a club in the middle of Medellín to dance the stress out. The Javi who picked your apartment door's lock to be waiting there with a bottle of whiskey and a container of soup the one and only day you were too knock-down drag-out sick to function at work.

“You don’t think that this isn’t a grand scheme to get us together?” Javi asks, smirking as he looks around the party. “I bet that they have a bet going on how long it will take for us to disappear.”

"They didn't even tell me you were coming," you point out, amused at the idea of your friends plotting for you, but not entirely convinced. "For the record, I would have found a much skimpier costume if I had known you were coming."

“How much fucking skimpier could you go?” He asks, sliding his hand down about five inches to the edge of your hem.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The smirk on your lips is borderline evil, but his hand on you makes you feel daring.

“Shit.” He hisses between his teeth. “Good fucking thing I’m not carrying a gun right now. I’d kill the fucker that tried touching you.”

"That's awfully territorial of you, Peña." Especially since you've spilled your guts to him and he hasn't said how he feels one way or the other, but you're not trying to get a marriage proposal or anything crazy.

“I’ve always been protective.” He reminds you. Leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours. “Especially those I love.”

"Yeah?" It would only take about a half a tilt of your head to kiss him like this, but you know once you cross that line again - at least tonight - you're not going to be able to stop yourself. And the Murphy's living room floor in the middle of a party of people isn't exactly where or how you dreamed of finally being able to be with Javi for the first time.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, sighing softly. “Muñequita.” He begins, stopping and smiling. “Do you know why I called you that all this time?”

"Because I'm adorable like a little doll?" Honestly, you had never bothered to ask, just accepting the term of endearment at face value and reveling in any small bit of intimacy you could grasp between the two of you.

“My pop used to call my mom that.” He admits quietly. “His ‘poppet’.”

“Javi…” He so rarely talks about his mother that you never could have known, and you all but melt against him right there and then. “That’s—its so sweet, I almost can’t stand it.”

“They were sweet.” Javi chuckles. “Pop is a hardass. Gruff, stoic, but ma? She was his poppet, his muñequita, and he loved her until the day she died.” He shrugs. “Loves her now. And she’s been gone for fifteen years.”

“Sounds like a love story worth aspiring to.” Somehow your hand has ended up in his at your side, and you tangle your fingers together experimentally only to feel them slide into place with ease as he lets you in.

“When you arrived and I got to know you,” he sighs. “It just seemed natural.” He knows that he holds a lot back, that he doesn’t talk but it’s hard to articulate.

“I was so sure you hated me for like the first few months I was in Colombia.” Javi’s standoffish behaviour and gruff comments hadn’t exactly read as friendly, but slowly you realized that that was just him. And once you understood that it was a hell of a lot easier to let things roll off your back.

“Never hated you. Wanted to fuck you.” He admits easily. He’s a man who enjoys sex and engaged in it as often as he could. Of course the pretty new agent coming in would catch his attention.

“Yeah that wasn’t how it came off at all,” you snort, able to laugh about it now that years have passed and so much has changed.

“It wasn’t supposed to come off that way.” Javi admits. “Didn’t want those assholes in the office to think that you were less than a top tier agent.” He knows the reputation he had crafted down in Colombia, and he knows what it could have done to your own reputation if he had shown interest. So he had kept his distance.

“More knight in shining armor behavior?” You tease, knowing that it isn’t quite the same.

“Self preservation.” He snorts. “They’d make a crack about what position they wanted to put you in, I’d be in the ambassador’s office for shoving a gun up their ass.”

“You probably shouldn’t be around the guys in the LA office, then.” It’s part of being a working woman in a field that’s considered for men, and you knew that going in. You ignore the comments and do your work, making sure to keep your nose clean and your paperwork immaculate. But the comments get made all the same.

“Assholes.” Javi rolls his eyes. “I fucked a lot, but how often did I talk about it?”

“You didn’t need to.” The smirk on your face says it all. “We all saw the secretary’s faces the next day.”

“Still didn’t brag.”

“No, you didn’t.” You have to agree to that. Javi may be an absolute rake, but he’s a respectful one.

“So what do we do now?” Javi asks, feeling like he is in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how you really want to do this, or what exactly you want from him.

“Hell if I know.” There is a nervousness through both of you that would be a lot more nerve wracking if you weren’t both scared. At least that puts you in equal footing. “I feel like we’re a hell of a lot better at cracking jokes and deflecting than we are at talking through shit.”

“Why would we talk about feelings?” Javi scoffs playfully. “Right now, I think you need another mojito.”

“Trying to get me drunk, Peña?” Even teasing him, you still lean into his side and let him lead you back toward the kitchen. The door to that conversation is open for later, and maybe you actually won’t be too afraid to have it now. But for right now? It’s a party. And he’s right — you need another mojito.

“So I got this amulet at the cutest little costume shop.” The wife out of the couple has picked out another victim as she holds up her necklace. “The shop owner was kidding, but he told me that I could have my greatest desire if I just wished it!”

“Oh my god!” Gasps the woman she is now talking to, who clearly is completely on board with the story. “What would you even wish for?”

“Right now?” She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know? A pizza? Yeah. I wish for a pizza.”

You roll your eyes discreetly at Javi and happily let him lead you over to the bar, but it does strike you as a fantastic coincidence when the door bell rings mere seconds later and you hear “Pizza delivery!” Called out from the front porch of Steve and Connie’s house.

“Who ordered pizza?” Steve calls out as he rushes towards the door. He hadn’t ordered it, but even if it was kids playing a prank, pizza sounds amazing right now.

The two women wander out of the kitchen looking bewildered and you throw Javi a smirk. “Weird ass coincidence.”

“That is a weird ass coincidence.” Javi muses. “Unless she ordered the pizza.”

“Already that drunk so early in the night?” You snicker softly. “That’s how you know it’s a good party.”

“Or to make whatever gullible sap she got her hooks in believe that wish thing.” He huffs.

"You don't believe in wishes?" The pout you throw him is adorable as he rolls his eyes at you and takes your glass to make you a new drink.

“I’ll believe it when shit like that actually works.” He grumbles as he starts to mix another mojito.

"Maybe if you wish out loud like she did, it will work." His generally disgruntled self makes you sunny, and that contrast has always been one of the thing that amused you about how you and Javi work together.

“Yeah?” Javi snorts in amusement as he looks up at you with an arched eyebrow. “I wish you’d show me your tits.” He teases.

There's no one in the kitchen with you, and that's the key. You quickly look around to make sure that no one is even by the door, and when you can see that everyone is at least six feet away with their back to the kitchen you slide the wide straps of your dress down your shoulders to expose your breasts -- all the while keeping one watchful eye on the other partygoers and the other on Javi.

He damn near drops the glass, he’s so shocked that you’ve flashed your tits at him. Mouth hanging open even after you’re pulling your dress back up. “You—”

"What?" You giggle evilly, tucking yourself back into your dress before anybody else can see. "I made your wish come true."

“Muñequita.” He breathes, shaking his head. “That’s cheating. The real wish would have been true if somehow your dress had ripped outside of your control.”

The crackling in the air is unexpected, but definitely not more expected than the tearing of fabric that happens immediately after. The seams rip haphazardly but they give way all at once, splitting your dress in half and exposing the skimpy lingerie you managed to wiggle into underneath. It happens too fast to react right away, but a second later you gasp and are too stunned to even think of covering yourself.

“Santa mierda.” Not particularly religious, Javi’s eyes are immediately looking up and then around to see if there is something that could have caused that. “I—”

"What the hell?!" When your hands finally catch up to your mind, you pull the shredded edges of your dress together with wide eyes. The effort to cover yourself is slightly in vain, though. It was a very skimpy dress.

“I didn’t- what the fuck just happened?” Javi demands, even as he’s moving towards you and reaching for the edges of your dress.

"Beats the fuck out of me, but I definitely need something else to wear now." If you weren't so confused you would probably be laughing your ass off. Standing in the Murphy's kitchen is not how you imagined your dress getting torn open with Javi pressed against you.

“What do you want to wear?” Javi moves so he is blocking your body from view if anyone comes in. “We can go get something out of Connie and Steve’s room.”

"I'll go grab one of Connie's old dresses if you just go and tell her what happened." How he'll possibly manage to explain it is beyond you, but right now you're more focused on remembering the layout of the Murphy's little ranch house so you don't stumble into Olivia's room instead of finding your way to Connie's closet.

Javi shakes his head, thankful that there is another door leading out into the hallway for you to try to keep from being seen. He heads out towards the living room and over towards the costumed Cleopatra. “Hey, Con, uh….so muñequita’s dress ripped and she’s gonna borrow something out of your closet. That’s okay, right?”

“What?” Connie turns around to find Javi’s face full of confusion and maybe even concern. “Yeah, of course it is! What happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” He admits. “It just…ripped apart.” She’s giving him a look that doubts what he’s saying, but how does he explain this without sounding completely crazy. “I told her that my wish would be for her dress to rip open and it just…did.”

The dubious expression on Connie’s face is obvious, and she raises one eyebrow. “Like…magic?”

“Like fucking magic.” Javi huffs, knowing it sounds crazy.

Dubiousness goes to skepticism and Connie snorts. “You got hands in the kitchen and ripped her costume? It’s fine, Javi. But now Steve owes me a fancy dinner out.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t fucking touch her.” He knows she won’t believe him, but he’s still trying to sort out exactly what had happened.

“Jav, it’s fine.” The shit eating grin on her face is just because she’s glad for her friends, it really is. “I would offer you the guest room but my sister has already called dibs on it for the whole week.”

He groans, rolling his eyes since it’s not even worth trying to tell her again. “Just- be careful about wishing for shit tonight.” He warns her before walking back to the back of the house where the bedrooms are.

“Connie?” Expecting to see her head pop around the corner, you quickly realize that the footfalls are too heavy to be hers. “No. That’s not Connie, that’s Javi.”

"Hey." Javi knocks on that almost closed door. "It's me." He murmurs. "Can I come in?" He doesn't know what the fuck is going on but he wants to make sure that you are okay.

“Of course.” Now wearing an old pair of Connie’s scrubs with your gold flats, you just look like a nurse who makes poor shoes choices. “You okay? Or are you still…shaky?”

"Shaky?" Javi pushes the door open and slips inside. "Who the fuck was shaky?" HIs scoff isn't nearly as derisive as it should have been, but he glowers at you in concern.

“Or was that just being too excited to see what panties I had on?” He isn’t going to give up his nerves, apparently, so you switch to teasing instead.

"I can find better ways to see what kind of panties you have on." That makes him smirk and his eyes slide down to admire the way you fill out those scrubs. He relaxes because it seems like you aren't hurt so his shoulders roll back slightly.

“Maybe I’ll wish for you to show me,” you hum, moving across the room to sink into his arms.

The urge to have you washes over him. Burning hotter than any other impulse he's ever had. Completely overriding every thought that might have been present and making his arms wrap around you tight as his mouth descends on yours with a hunger that has him groaning.

It hits you like a freight train, the way Javi’s need seems to be all-encompassing, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss when he wraps you up against him. It’s exactly the way you remember it from a year ago, but maybe a little more abrupt. You seem to remember Javi being a little bit smoother last time. But since when do you mind enthusiasm?

Determined to touch you as quickly as possible, Javi starts to push you back towards the large, king-sized bed that dominates the room. Not even thinking about how it would piss Steve off if he fucked you on his bed. If he had been thinking about it, he would have done it on purpose, but right now he just wants to touch you.

“Javi!” Even as he’s pushing you back on the bed, every thought has left your mind. He’s the reason you came here and the reason you’ve been planning on changing your life and this is finally happening so you’ll send Connie some apology flowers later and move on with your life. His hands squeeze and grope your body as he doesn’t even let go to get you on the bed. It’s like he can’t let go of you. “Cariño?” Something in his mannerisms change, and even though his kiss is every bit as insistent as you remember, his touch is different. It’s…like his hands are glued to you. When you pull back he sounds pained more than anything else. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He grunts, rocking his hips forward and it’s insane, crazy, but the words come out of his mouth. “Tell me to show you what I’ve imagined.” He begs softly, his teeth scraping over your jaw. “Wish it.”

Does it really work? And does it work like that specifically? Or is it just tonight’s token sex game? Either way, your body is far too deeply on fire for you to argue. “I wish you would show me what you’ve imagined.”

It’s a fucking relief to be able to touch more of you. To be able to move to start to immediately strip off the clothes you had just put on.

“Fuck—” As strong and sure as he usually is, Javi is even more determined tonight. Like every movement is being commanded. “Don’t rip anything,” you warn him with a grin.

“I’ll pay Connie for the outfit.” He groans, not caring what he rips as long as he gets to touch you. Fingers curling under the band of the scrub bottoms and peeling them off of you along with your panties.

You scramble backward on the bed as soon as your pants are gone, forcing Javi to climb on with you and sprawl across your body like he’s trying to block out the light. “We’ll be buying them a new comforter, too.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Javi groans, hands sliding under the shirt so he can push it up over your head and see your tits again.

“Goddamn, Javi.” His mouth is on your skin in an instant, hot and wet and searching, making sure you have to clamp one hand down over your mouth to keep from moaning too loudly and alerting the rest of the party.

Now he’s playing out every fantasy he’s ever had of you. Rocking his hard cock against your core while he bites and licks at your tits through the thin material of your bra.

“I swear to god if a phone rings anywhere I will break it in half,” you groan, one hand threaded through Javi’s curls to tug at his hair while he devours your tits and the other trying desperately to maneuver enough to unbutton his shirt in the meantime.

He doesn’t even try to move. Too focused on you so he can hear you moan his name like you had when he was about to fuck you the last time. He’s jerked off thinking about that moan for the last year.

You’re practically tearing his own clothes away. Whatever you can get your hands in while you’re flat on your back is getting pulled open and shoved aside so you can get him as stripped down as you are, and when that doesn’t get you very far you shiver your hands behind your back and strip away your bra to let him at every inch of your skin.

Groaning, Javi attacks your tits with renewed enthusiasm. Mouth recovering every inch of skin he had just mapped. Enjoying the warmth of your skin even more.

He's like a man starved, and you genuinely have to wonder if he's gone as crazy over the last year as you have. It's been torture being apart from him, and maybe it really is the same for him because it feels like Javi is trying to burrow under your skin right now. "Baby." The only coherent thought in your head is that you want more, and you hope you can manage a full sentence. "I need you, Javi. Please."

Huffing against your skin, Javi releases your nipple and starts to kiss down your stomach. Not willing to just rush into sex even though the house is full of people. He’s going to show you what he imagined.

He's disarmingly methodical. Taking you apart piece by piece and making sure that you're not only aching but actively begging for him by the time he settles himself between your legs. It's where he belongs, dammit, and right now you need him more than breathing.

Your scent is heavy in his nostrils. Getting richer as he shuffles to spread your legs wide enough to fit his shoulders through. “Fuck.”

"Not yet," you giggle but the sound is breathy and deep in your chest. "You do whatever you want with that mouth of yours, first."

“Always thought about this.” He admits, nuzzling your thigh and then biting it. “I like licking a cunt, and thought about what you would taste like.”

A shiver rolls through you with each nip to your skin and your hips tilt down, dripping pussy begging for attention. "Time to find out."

Javi licks his lips and groans. Ducking his head down and opening his mouth to devour your pussy with the first long lick. Eyes rolling back in pleasure at the wet heat of your tangy essence.

"Oh my fucking god." Even as hard as you're trying to be quiet, there are some things in life worth being vocal about. Javier Peña eating your pussy is definitely one of them. His arms wrap themselves around your thighs and once more your fingers twine into his curls to keep him close.

His own eyes flutter in pleasure as he carves a path through your folds with his tongue. Indulging in giving pleasure rather than taking it. While he had made sure partners enjoyed themselves, this was honestly for him.

His grip keeps you from squirming, only making sure that your hips stay on the bed while Javi begins to methodically take you apart one lick at a time. If this is what he has wished for, for who knows how long? You're absolutely going to enjoy being on the receiving end of all of those pent-up fantasies.

His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as your legs threaten to close every time he swipes his tongue up and down your pussy. Feeling your ass clench under you and his eyes slide down to watch your tits shake as you quiver.

Every swipe of his tongue hits something exquisite inside you, twisting and pulling at that coil at the base of your spine that is always tingling with the impending need for release. Gasping and moaning his name as quietly as you can with so much pleasure hearing your blood, your nails scrape the base of his skull as you get closer and closer to cumming.

Javi’s eyes close when you scratch his head, shuddering in response to the pleasure. Groaning into your folds and worshiping at the alter of your cunt as he feasts and sips your juices.

Fingers tangling more determinedly with every second, you know how close you are. How loud you’re going to end up being if you don’t keep your mouth shut. So you slap you hand over your mouth and bite your lip, tugging on Javi’s hair that much harder to spur him on.

Javi hisses, twisting his tongue around your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. His nose buried into the thick folds protecting your sensitive flesh as he wills you to cum for him.

So close you're about to rocket off the edge of pleasure, a thought rolls through your mind that you let out instantly, wondering what will happen. "Wish it," you moan, so close you're nearly sobbing. "Wish for me to drench your tongue, Jav."

Right now he couldn’t even speak, so his wish is in his mind. Begging for you to come apart for him, needing to see it.

From that moment it’s as if you are being moved — guided — by the hands of Fate. Or, possibly more accurately, thrown off the precipice of pleasure like a chess piece being forcibly ejected from its game. There is no one to catch you but Javi, as you pant out his name in muffled ecstasy, but that is all you need. Just him, ready to drown himself in every drop of cum he can wring from your body.

He drags you hips closer, groaning as he feels the force of your reaction to him, to this. Curling his tongue up inside you as your thighs press against his head and squeeze.

Barely shy of screaming his name as you fall apart, the giggling puddle of a person you become when you finally stop shaking is downright comical. “Goddamn,” you manage to huff out, panting to catch your breath.

A few more licks before he’s satisfied, Javi smirks as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked cunt. “What’s wrong, muñequita? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re the one with your tongue in my pussy,” you quip with your wit since your body is now basically useless.

He snorts and indulges himself with biting your thigh like he’s imagined hundreds of times. “Sure fuckin’ did.”

“I didn’t pull too hard, did I?” The fingers that you still have in his hair smooth of his scalp to soothe any burn that might be left behind.

“No.” Javi still needs to touch you, show you what else he’s thought of and starts to lick and kiss up your body. “Not hard enough.”

“Should’ve known you would like it h—” When his teeth more than graze one of your nipples, you moan unrestrainedly. “Hard.”

Javi grunts, the sound more like a growl than anything as he starts to suckle on your nipple again.

“Fucking hell, Javi.” Your back bows, chest pushing itself up with the curve of that arch to soak up as much of his attention as possible.

Even as he’s paying attention to your tits, his hips are slotted between yours. Pressing the length of him against your clit as he starts to rock his hips.

It splits your body’s attention and casts a fuzzy cloud over your mind where instinct takes over again above everything else. All you want is more of him and the movement of your own hips is a mimic of the way Javi rocks against you. If you could do it blind, you’d be tipping your hips to take him inside you as fast as humanly fucking possible, but he has you at his mercy.

“Impatient.” Javi chuckles, smirking as he pops your nipple out of his mouth.

“Only cause we’re in somebody else’s bed,” you admit. “Otherwise? It should take hours.”

He snorts and is willing to say that the Murphy’s can just fuck off, but he doesn’t. Instead he slides his hand between your bodies and positions himself at your welcoming entrance. “Are you sure, baby?”

“So fucking sure.” It’s been a year of dreaming about the night you almost had and far more than that of daydreaming about him before you knew exactly what his kisses tasted like. “No hesitation.”

“Thank God.” He groans, pulling his hand away so he can slide it under your body. Slowly rocking his hips forward to break you open as his lips descend on yours.

You would have laughed if there was time. A pleased little giggle of understanding after having waited so long to be with him. But waiting has made you both eager, and the moment he slips inside you and you wrap your legs around his waist? There is nothing to laugh about.

It’s painful, holding back and not just slamming his hips home to bury his cock. But it’s worth it to see your face change as he fills you inch by inch. Slow and steady is a very specific kind of torture. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he pushes forward, and you swear you’re seeing stars by the time he’s fully seated inside you. Only slightly longer than average, Javi’s cock is girthy with prominent veins that scrub along your walls as he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Every sensation is a desperate, delicious, perfect overload of your senses and you whimper in a pitiful bid for more.

A long, colorful stream of Spanish and English intertwined together falls out of his mouth. A filthy prayer to whatever Gods were listening as he feels like his entire body is going to pull in on himself like a black hole of pleasure. Those words breathed into you and moaned in praise.

Even if you know exactly how he feels, you don’t have the words to tell him anymore. You’ve lost the ability to express yourself with any kind of eloquence, or in any way at all, and instead are pouring everything you have into kissing him back and pushing back against every thrust to give both of you your maximum pleasure.

The pace is slow, steady to start with. Needing to feel everything as he rocks his hips and fills you completely every time he bottoms out. “Baby, you- fuck.” He hisses.

This time you do giggle, it it’s broken by a moan. “Yeah I do,” you tease with a grin.

“Tease.” He grunts, shaking his head and kissing you again. His next thrust is more jarring as he snaps his hips forward for emphasis.

"Worth it," you contend, when a few quick thrusts leave you completely breathless.

He rolls his eyes and slides the arm that isn’t around you down to your thigh to pull it up on his hip so he can thrust just a bit deeper into you. “Fuck.” He hisses.

The give and take, push and pull, is intoxicating. Everything about this night has been unexpected and you’re not about to start questioning it now. There’s nowhere else you would rather be, now or for the rest of your life. Slowly, the need gets the best of him. Starting to move faster, putting a bit more force into his thrusts as he fucks you.

It’s impossible not to get wrapped up in him. Even if he didn’t have one arm literally wrapped around you, you would still be lost in being close to him. The world is nothing but Javi now and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Wanted you every damn day we were in that fucking office.” He pants quietly. “Wondering what you would look like spread out, sound like.” He bites your chin. “Never could imagine that you were better than my dreams.”

“So much fucking better.” The number of times you had fantasized about him is completely beyond counting but this is far beyond anything you thought it could be. You fit together like you were always meant to find each other this way.

Instead of ramping up to a frantic pace, Javi keeps it steady and just on the sensual side of things. Nearly lovemaking.

You’ve definitely been gone too long. Someone will have noticed, and it will be Steve, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with that coil of tension pulling tight in your belly and making your legs shake. “So—” Panting in his ear, you turn your head and bite Javi’s jawline the way he loves doing to you. “Fuck baby. So close.”

“Good.” He groans, teeth becoming a part of the kisses he is scattering over your skin. Fingers digging in just a bit harder as his pace falters for the first time.

Just because you didn’t mean it as permission doesn’t mean it can’t be taken that way, and your nails dig their way into Javi’s back as his thrusts get deeper and more erratic.

“Cum for me, muñequita.” He begs, feeling his own control starting to slip. It’s the climax of his dreams and wishes for the past year, quickly making it difficult to maintain stamina for long. He’s too pent up, too eager to have you.

As if he wished it again, you can feel the tension in your body snap like a rubber band. All of a sudden your body hurtles over the edge of pleasure, pulling Javi into you as tightly and deeply as your needy cunt possibly can while you groan into his kiss and press little half-moons into his back with your fingernails.

It's like the floodgates opening, soaking him as you convulse underneath him. "Oh fuck, baby." He moans quietly, steadily rocking into you to make sure you don't miss a second of the pleasure.

“Come on, Javi.” As unbelievably fucking good as it feels, it won’t be complete unless he comes with you. “Cum for me, baby.”

His hands tighten on your body, gripping you as if he's afraid to let you go. As if you might slip away even if you are encouraging him to cum. Gritting his teeth as his pace becomes frantic. Needing only another moment, another thrust before he's cumming. Pushing deep and groaning your name as he fills you. Pouring wave after wave of hot cum into you as he presses his lips to yours.

“Fucking hell.” When both of your bodies are finally still and you feel like you can gasp for air again, you leave lingering kisses on his lips and jaw, indulging in every second of contact.

Javi pants, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours when you stop kissing him. "Fuck is right."

You giggle softly, eyes closed against the feeling of him weighing you down. Afraid somewhere in your mind that if you open them you might find out this was all a dream. “You’re coming back to my hotel tonight…right?”

"Or you can come back to mine." He nuzzles into your neck, kissing your jaw and scraping it with his teeth. "Whatever you want, muñequita."

“Mine has a huge hot tub.” If he hadn’t just completely devastated you, you’d be ready to jump him again at the first nip of teeth. “I plan on riding you in it.”

"Oh?" His brow arches and he pulls away to smirk down at you. "You had those plans when you booked the room?"

“I had those dreams when I booked the room.” You suck a mark into the hollow of his throat and grin. “It’s only a plan now that this happened.”

"I don't mind that dream." He hums. "We can make it a reality."

“All my dirty dreams have a very Javi-esque leading man,” You promise him. “You should feel very flattered.”

"I am." He drolls playfully, leaning in and kissing you again.

“The chain is sexy, by the way.” He still has the necklace and bracelet on that he bought at the costume store and your fingers tangle in it, locked between your chests. “Just so you know.”

"Yeah?" He smirks and winks at you. "It's a little flashy for my tastes, but if you like it..."

"Definitely keep it." As if to prove your point, you use it to tug him a little closer and press another kiss to his lips. "Who knows? It might be magic like the woman downstairs who wished for pizza."

“Yeah?” He snorts. “Maybe the fairy costume you were wearing is magic. That’s why it ripped.”

"It was a nymph costume," you correct him with a pout. "And you should have seen the way your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw me in it. I'm gonna miss that dress."

“You think that shop has another?” Javi asks seriously. “We could go get it.”

“Ohhh, you really liked that dress.” The way you can’t help snickering is almost evil, but he’s still laying on top of you with his softening cock about to slip out of your pussy and you swear you felt it twitch.

"Bend over in it and I get to see your cunt." His hand slides down and he slaps your thigh after one last kiss.

“I’ll let you do more than look if you want to.” The wink you shoot him is devilish, and accompanied by a wide grin. “We have a whole lot of missed time to make up for.”

Javi grunts as he feels himself fall out of you and he shifts onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling for a second and reminding himself that he's on Murphy's bed and not his own. "Yes we do." He groans as he sits up and looks over at you. "Wanna get out of here?" He asks. "Start making it up?"

“Absolutely.” You’ll pull on the scrubs you were borrowing from Connie and you’ll get the hell out of here with Javi for the rest of this first glorious night. But first? You will absolutely be opening the window to let the room air out.

"Leave it." Javi tells you when you move over to the window, guessing what you are going to do. He grins wickedly and tilts his head towards the door. "Steve deserves it for all the shit he's given me."

It takes a couple of minutes to get yourselves straightened out, but once you do, you’re prepared to just say good night and offer to but the Murphy’s dinner tomorrow as both thanks and an apology for slipping out early. What you find when you leave the bedroom, however, is nothing short of chaos. A woman dressed as a cowgirl stands amazed with a pony in the middle of the living room. One guy is standing in the middle of a pile of money cradling the keys to a new car. Another has two beautiful women vying for his attention. The woman who wanted pizza now has an entire stack — it seems like you and Javi weren’t the only ones throwing your wishes around for fun.

"Fuck, there you are." Steve looks positively relieved to see the two of you as he drags Connie over to you. "What the fuck is going on?"

“Do you believe in magic, Murph?” You ask, raising one eyebrow even as Javi’s fingers kink through your own.

He rolls his eyes and then they fall on your joined hands. "Holy shit, maybe miracles do happen if you holding hands means what I think it means."

“You don’t want to know what it means.” It’s your assurance, but you crack a grin anyway. “Just…be careful what you wish for tonight. Okay, Stevie?”

"Huh?" He frowns, but Connie bites her lip, rushing forward to give you a hug. She knows how long you have pined for Javi.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” you murmur, squeezing her back in a tight hug. “Dinner tomorrow. On us. I wanna hear how the rest of this party goes.”

“It’s getting crazy.” Connie admits, hugging you fiercely and stepping back to shoot Javi a grin. “Go have fun you two.”

“Don’t worry,” you shout back over your shoulder as Javi immediately starts to move you toward the door. “We will!”

Javi wraps his arm around you as you exit the house, guiding you towards the rental car he had driven over. “They are in for a wild night.” He predicts. “Steve’s been wishing for threesome for years.”

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x dea!reader #dea!reader #coworker romance #pining #the one that got away #halloween party #Halloween #Spooktober

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thatgirl4815 · 7 months

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We don't even know who this guy is, but can I just applaud him for how chill he was about the embarrassing conversation going on in front of him? The man smiled and shuffled away without a single complaint.

#the one that got away #poor guy #only friends #only friends the series #ofts #I guess compared to this crew pretty much anybody seems like a saint #only friends episode 8 #only friends ep 8

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redundant-lava · 6 months

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As Time Goes By - An Enemies AU

Summary:

Viperion and Ladybug were the heroes of Paris. They bravely fought the evil Hawkmoth and Chat Noir for six long years. But When Viperion is killed in battle and Ladybug disappears, the city falls to the mercy of the villains.

Two years later, Adrien is trying to make the best of working for his father. His failure as Cat Noir to procure the Ladybug miraculous has caused him to be relegated to busy work - both for Hawkmoth and the Gabriel™ brand. He is finally settling into a life co-managing his father’s spin-off lifestyle brand with his cousin Felix, and he has convinced himself he can live with this. That is, until someone he hasn’t seen in two years walks into his bar - his ex-girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

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An AU where Cat Noir has been working with Hawkmoth since the beginning, and Ladybug is forced into hiding. Will Adrien betray his father to save the woman he loves? Chapters: 13/13 Words: 48,893 Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Nino Lahiffe

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Tomoe Tsurugi, Félix Graham de Vanily, Nino Lahiffe, Félix Fathom

Additional Tags: Adrinette | Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Identity Reveal, Bad Parent Tomoe Tsurugi, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Future, Sentimonster Adrien Agreste, Alternate Universe - Casablanca Fusion, the one that got away, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Snake Luka Couffaine | Viperion, Lost Love, Star-crossed, Moral Ambiguity, enemies au, Enemies to Lovers, Lovers To Enemies, Rivalry, Villain Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, but like not really he just thinks he is, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Corruption, Sentimonster Félix Fathom read on AO3 >>

#casablanca au #ml enemies au #ml fanfic #lovesquare #lukanette #lost love #star crossed lovers #the one that got away #atgb #my writing #bonus scenes coming soon

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gooseh0nk · 9 months

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had a dream last night that i was at a katy perry concert in 2012 and she was opening her next song like taylor swift has been doing at her concerts where she brings up some obscure event in her life then starts singing but instead of singing after she introduced it she goes “but i want to dedicate this to homestuck!!!” and the crowd went wild then she says “THIS IS FOR YOU DIRK STRIDER AND JAKE ENGLISH” and started singing the one that got away

#it felt so real and i was also freaking out in my dream #im losing my mind ive been thinking about this for hours #i havent even heard that song in years #homestuck #katy perry #dream #dirkjake #jakedirk #jake english #dirk strider #the one that got away #goose.txt #gooseh0nk

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hyperfocusthusly · 8 months

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Never planned that one day, I’d be losing you

#oh gosh just have it I don’t care anymore #did I physically harm myself in the creation of this?#yes #will it ever stop me?#no #I just want them to be happy #song edit #the one that got away #katy perry #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #gomens

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sun-strider-47 · 1 year

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Our World War II boyfriend.

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #world on fire #wof #our ww2 boyfriend #the one that got away #lol

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perfectsunlight · 1 year

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

𝗵𝘂𝗵 𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

[𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒: 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝗒 𝗄𝖺𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒]

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 𝟥,𝟨𝟢𝟧

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝖾'𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗐𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗌

"𝗒𝖺𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇-𝖺𝗁! 𝗂'𝗆 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗌. 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝟣𝟢 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖾, 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖻𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾. 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀.

"𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽, 𝗃𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. "𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾." 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌, 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀. "𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌.

𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌' 𝗅𝗂𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗂'𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎

"𝗌𝗁𝗁! 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗌" 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗊𝗎𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗎𝗆𝖾. 𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖺, 𝗅𝗂𝗅𝖺𝖼, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗈 𝖼𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗆𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄, "𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾"

𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎, "𝖺𝗆 𝗂 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝖿𝖾?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒. "𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝖿𝖾?" 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌, "𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍"

"𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗇" 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽, 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾-𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉.

𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗂 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇, 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝖺

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗆𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝖼. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.

"𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀…'𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 - 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗁"

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁�� 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇. 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗇, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍.

𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼, 𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾

"𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗌? 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾" 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆.

𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍; "𝖺𝗁, 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗌, 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋"

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝖽𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝗈." 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾'𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇, "𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈? 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍?"

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖽. "𝗈𝗁 𝗇𝗈, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗂𝗀, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 "𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒. 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝗐𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗍."

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗂𝗋. "𝗂 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍? 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝖻𝖾𝗅-𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌?"

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾.

"𝗂 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾-𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗂 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗉𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾." 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐.

[ 𝖧𝖴𝖧 𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖩𝖨𝖭 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖸𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖩𝖴𝖭 𝖣𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦? ]

[ 𝖫𝖤 𝖲𝖲𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖥𝖨𝖬'𝖲 𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖩𝖨𝖭 𝖲𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪𝖲 𝖣𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖱𝖴𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖲 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖫𝖠𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖬𝖠𝖳𝖤 𝖸𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖩𝖴𝖭 ]

[ 𝖸𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖩𝖴𝖭 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖩𝖨𝖭 𝖲𝖤𝖤𝖭 𝖮𝖭 𝖠 𝖣𝖠𝖳𝖤 𝖡𝖸 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖱𝖨𝖵𝖤𝖱 ]

[ 𝖣𝖨𝖲𝖯𝖠𝖳𝖢𝖧 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖥𝖨𝖱𝖬𝖲 𝖬𝖴𝖫𝖳𝖨𝖯𝖫𝖤 𝖲𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 𝖮𝖥 𝖸𝖴𝖭𝖩𝖨𝖭 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖸𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖩𝖴𝖭 𝖠𝖢𝖱𝖮𝖲𝖲 𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖴𝖫 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖭𝖸𝖢 ]

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌, 𝗈𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. "𝗂 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝗁𝗎𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿.

𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌, 𝗇𝗈

"𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽," 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽, 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽-𝖻𝖾-𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 "𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈, 𝗒/𝗇. 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗂 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖽𝖾𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉."

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅. 𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅��𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌. 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉.

"𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍? 𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗌?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈��𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗎𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎; 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, "𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗒/𝗇. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋."

𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇. 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝖺 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝗌𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗏𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗀. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄. "𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝗎𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇."

𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝟣𝟢 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖾𝗑-𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾.

𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀. "𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽, 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇-𝗍𝗈-𝖻𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅'𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍. "𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐. 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗈" 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗈𝖿𝖿.

"𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝗀𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝗁𝗎𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇. 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇." 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

𝗂 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽'𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝖺 '𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂 𝗉𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾

"𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌…𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖿𝗂𝗆!"

𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁. 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋.

𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗐𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾. "𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖿𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗌 𝖽𝗈 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗌! 𝗐𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽."

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖿𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒. 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒? 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾.

𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾. 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗍. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 "𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎" 𝖺𝗇𝖽 "𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎" 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾.

𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗐𝖾'𝖽 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽

𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝗎𝗉 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗎𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾.

𝗈�� 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽, 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅? 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉. 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝗅𝗒-𝖽𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉'𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝗈, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝗌𝗈, 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌.

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉, 𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾, 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍'𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍, 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅'𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗇. 𝗀𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, "𝗁𝖾𝗒, 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋". 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽.

"𝗁𝗂, 𝗒/𝗇. 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾?" 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎, "𝗂 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗇𝗈? 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾? 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒?" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍, 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗓𝗂, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝖼𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍. 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐.

"𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽𝗎𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾," 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, "𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿"

𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾, 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿. 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈. 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗉𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗋, 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝖻. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍.

𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝗍, 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈.

"𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾, 𝗂'𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐." 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗎𝗉. "𝗂'𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗆 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗂𝗍.

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀.

"𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝖺𝗇𝖼é 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀." 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗎𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇.

𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗍. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽, 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 "𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉." "𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇," 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋. "𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗂'𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽" 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗁𝗎𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋; 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗍. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽.

𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂-𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍'𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅'𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗉, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾.

𝗁𝗎𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽? 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

"𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝗎𝗁 𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇" "𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗅/𝗇 𝗒/𝗇"

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒

#huh yunjin #yunjin x reader #angst #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #the one that got away #le sserafim #lesserafim x reader #oneshot #perfectsunlight

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livelovecaliforniadreams · 5 months

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Favorite Otps/Pairings: Jess Mariano & Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls) “Look, you know we're supposed to be together. I knew it the first time I saw you two years ago and you know it, too. I know you do.”

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adoreeenina · 6 months

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I Loved Her First! (Teaser)

(Recom! Miles Quaritch x Avatar! Reader) (Past! Human! Lyle Wainfleet x Human! Reader)

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Paz is as many things but stupid was not one of them. Since Y/n first arrived to Pandora, the Colonel was smitten. Being head security of Hell’s Gate never gave him the chance to introduce himself like he wanted to. Paz never understood what he saw in Y/n, her being not only a scientist but Dr. Grace Augustine daughter, the woman that Quaritch despised.

Right before Quaritch could make conversation, it was already too late. Lyle had asked her on a date, one date became two, and soon they made it official. Lyle had introduced Y/n to his whole squad, Quaritch heart had ache that day, seeing Y/n kissing Lyle, sitting on his lap.

Paz was always jealous of her, Paz been Quaritch pilot since she arrived to Pandora, Y/n just arrived and manage to catch the stone cold Miles Quaritch heart within seconds.

Paz knew it wasn’t a coincidence seeing Quaritch at the bar, drinking away his agony.

Just a few hours earlier. The unit did a little party, many were drinking, talking, laughing. Paz was talking with Trudy and Zee when Lyle shouted for everyone’s attention. Paz didn’t know what was going on until Lyle took out a ring and got on his knee, asking Y/n to marry him. The look of pure joy on Y/n’s face was gorgeous, even Paz could t deny that; Y/n instantly said yes. Paz didn’t know what aptitude her to peer at the Colonel.

If anybody bothered to glance at Quaritch, they would’ve seen the heartache look on his face. Quaritch excused himself after that, and Paz follows him.

Paz let him talk it out as he drunkenly admitted his feeling towards Y/n, a few drinks later… Quaritch and Paz slept together.

Paz woke up the next morning, not seeing Quaritch anywhere, not even any evidence that he was there.

Quaritch felt guilty, he didn’t understand why he did if he wasn’t with Y/n. Quaritch avoided Paz like the plague, but it didn’t last long when two months later, Paz looked for him. Paz told him she was pregnant. With his child.

An arguement happened, Quaritch denies being the child father, while Paz says it is. With her pregnancy and hormones, her emotions are all over the place.

“I always loved you” Quaritch froze at her confession. “I have tried everything to get you to notice me, but I could never be her, could I?”

Quaritch heavily sighs through his nose. He didn’t know what to say, he never seen her as anything other than a fellow soldier.

If he remembers correctly that night, it wasn’t intimate or passionate, It rough. It was just to blow off steam, he even made her face away from him, he had his eyes closed the entire time thinking of a certain (h/c).

He didn’t even stay when he finished, he instantly left, didn’t cuddle her or do any aftercare, it was just sex. It was just to take his mind off the woman he loves but could never have. Quaritch pretty sure he moaned Y/n’s name.

“Did I ever had a chance?” Paz asks, her eyes gazing at Quaritch

“No. It would always be Y/n” he answers.

His words hurt her. She already knew the answer, but it still hurts her to hear it directly from his mouth.

What does Y/n have that Paz didn’t?

(Should I or should I not?)

More pictures of human Miles Quaritch, idc idc this man is fine asf, I would let this man do whatever he wanted to to me🥵

#miles quaritch x reader #lyle wainfleet x reader #recom miles quaritch #the one that got away #recom miles Quaritch x reader #Spotify

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wardenparker · 9 months

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In the Heights, part 1

Maxwell Lord x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: Cursing. Alcohol/food consumption, single dad Max, mention of divorce and unhappy marriage, probably inaccurate portrayal of being a high school student in the 60s, yearning, mutual pining, friends to lovers, the love is requited they're just idiots, the one that got away, high school crush, poor communication, mistaken sexuality assumptions, people being skeptical about Max, reader is full of sunshine, tipsy behaviours. Summary: A long time ago in a life that seems completely forgotten, you had a crush on your classmate Max Lorenzano. The world has changed a lot since then - but when you discover that your old friend is your new neighbor, it seems like some things have stayed the same after all. (This story contains flashbacks.) Notes: Part 1 of 2! I won't lie to you, guys. I love Max Lord. I love him in a way that is probably not healthy at all, so Keri has once again humored me and allowed for a little One That Got Away story with this sad puppy of a man. Also, I apologize for any errors I may have missed in editing. Cold medicine and being sleepy is a bad combo.

The sight of a moving truck isn't odd in any part of New York City. People come and go from these buildings so quickly that some people never bother to get to know their neighbors at all. The only reason you'd really noticed the one this morning was because it was out front when you were leaving for work and causing a little bit of a commotion with traffic. You'd skirted it and strode across the street to grab your usual cup of coffee and bagel with cream cheese from the bodega across the street before hitting the subway. Midtown doesn't seem far when you get to just sit and read during your commute, and you've never minded. But you tuck away the information about having a new neighbor and consider baking a batch of welcome cookies for them when you get home from the office tonight - it seems like the neighborly thing to do. You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl.

******

Max sighs as he hauls the last box up the stairs. Alistair has already started unpacking his room, and thank God he managed to pay the moving company to at least get the large items upstairs to the third floor wall up, but then the rest of the boxes had been left on the curb when they had figured out where they knew him from. He’s just lucky they didn’t take what he had with them, but it was again a reminder of how he had fucked up. New York is supposed to be a fresh start, a new beginning, but he doesn’t know if that’s possible for him.

The positive of someplace busy like New York was supposed to be that people would ignore or look past him. They always say New Yorkers are too busy to bother with their neighbors, and that’s something he wanted this time. To just blend into the background if he could so that Alistair could have a fighting chance and not be despised because of what he had done. Alistair, for the most part, remains as optimistic and sweet as ever. He knows that people are upset with his Daddy but his love never wavers. It’s enough to push him through the bad days, thank god, and to remind him that he’s doing this for a good reason. Starting over is for his son. He will find a way - any way - to make this work.

Things are different than D.C., the energy is different. He’s reminded of the days that he was in school, hopeful for the future. Max Lorenzano was teased and bullied in school, made fun of because of his poverty, his weird foods that he ate, the holes in his shoes, and his proclivity for learning. It had been his first life lessons, but the bullying in school was better than the beatings at home. Unsure of why he is thinking about those things, he takes the first load of boxes to the trash chute.

****

It’s sometime after dinner that the batch of chocolate chip cookies you put together are finally cool enough and ready to pack up. Stacking them neatly on a plate, wrapping it in cling film, and tying it up with ribbon, you head across the hall to meet the folks that just moved into Mrs. Cristian’s old place. An empty box marked Toys in the trash chute had clued you in to a child being present, so cookies seems even more appropriate now.

Even though Max is a miserable cook, he’s unpacking the kitchen when he hears the knock at the door. Frowning slightly, he wonders if the pizza he had ordered has already gotten here. He had assumed that it would take longer than fifteen minutes. “Coming!” He dusts his hands on his jeans and walks towards the door. Opening it up as he reaches for his wallet.

“Hi neighbor!” The words - bright and sunny - are out of your mouth before you even look up, having gotten distracted by the Torres’ cat in the hallway. But the second you do, your eyes go wide. “Max?” There’s no questioning it. It’s not like you hadn’t seen him all over the news or that you didn’t remember what had happened. Everyone remembered. Just…most of the billions of people in the world hadn’t known Max Lord since he was Max Lorenzano in Lubbock, Texas.

Instantly on guard, he’s halfway expecting to be attacked, or cussed out. That was the reaction of the majority of people who recognized him. He needed to dye his hair back to his natural brown. When the diatribe doesn’t come, he frowns and takes a closer look at the pretty woman in front of him for a moment before his eyes widen and your name comes off as a whisper like a ghost from his past

****

“Hey Lame-zano!” Max hunches over his books and speeds up, trying to ignore the boys behind him. Knowing that it would do no good to turn around and confront them. It would just speed up the beat down he knows is coming. “Hey weirdo! Fuckin’ stop!”

The boys don’t stop hollering as Max speeds up. They never do. Torture is the specialty of high school jocks, or at least these particular ones, and Max is their favourite target. “Max!” His name is hisses from somewhere off to the side, and an arm shoots out to pull him out of the hallway like he’s a bad Vaudeville comedian. He’s almost yanked off his feet, but for the girl he crashes into in the disused classroom. You hush him immediately, hand over his mouth, and quickly shut the door so the scions of the football team won’t see where he’s disappeared too. “Quiet.” You warn, carefully peaking through the window to make sure they walk by.

He crouches down, grateful that you had pulled him out of the line of fire, face burning in shame at the same time. To be rescued by the prettiest girl he’s ever seen seems to be his luck, knowing you are completely aware of his lack of masculinity. “Thanks.” He murmurs quietly.

“They’re shitheads.” You mutter, shaking your head as the group of boys howls on their way by. “Absolute shitheads.” There’s no real reason for any of the other kids to be so mean to Max, but logic never stopped cruel people from being cruel. Max is different so they’re mean. It’s as simple as that.

“They are still better than I am.” He huffs, terrified they will find him and humiliate him in front of you. It’s a dirty feeling, to know that you are going to be here to witness his utter ruination.

“How?” That doesn’t make any sense to you, and your brow furrows at him as you lean back against the door. You’ll give it another minute or two before you both go out there. Maybe the trio will move on to another target for a while. Sometimes that target is you, but you’d take it every time if it meant they would leave Max alone. “You mean they’re better at playing football than you? Who cares?”

“They are popular.” He reminds you. “Their parents are influential. People respect them.” Respect is what he craves, yearns for.

"They're bullies." And it stings, because one of those awful idiots out there is your own cousin. But because you have different last names, most people don't know. You want nothing to do with him and vice versa. "People don't respect them, they're either ass kissers or afraid." Shrugging slightly, you cross your arms over your chest, knowing that you don't exactly sound very ladylike at the moment. You could care less at the moment, though. You would only care if cussing offended Max.

“You don’t understand.” Max shakes his head and stares at you. “Why are you hiding from them? They don’t torment you.” He’s jealous of that, if he’s honest, but he’s also grateful that they don’t. Knowing that you are too good for that, for him to even talk to.

"Sure they do." It might not be as loud or as often, but they still pick on you. "Yesterday Lewis Sinclair practically pulled up my skirt in chemistry class because I answered too many questions correctly." You shake your head again, scowling this time. "They're all awful. You shouldn't listen to what they say."

“They are right, I am a loser.” Max snorts, standing up when they have passed by and don’t seem to be doubling back. “Everyone knows it.” He’s learned that he will have to reinvent himself, become someone people want to know. It’s how he will become important and successful.

"You're not." At least, you've never thought so. But maybe that doesn't count for much in his view of things. It's not like the boy you've had a quiet crush on since seventh grade has ever looked at you more than a few times - and even then it was to ask you for help in class. This might be the longest conversation you've ever had with him. "They're mean because you're different from them. That doesn't mean you're a loser."

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” He sighs and looks down at his feet. “Are you going home after this? I think we’ve missed the bus.” That means he will get home late to do his chores. Which means he will get yelled at if his father comes home early.

"We could walk?" Neither of you lives too far from the school despite most of the town being spread out to small farms or ranches, or even just decent-size patches of land. You know for a fact that the Lorenzanos live pretty close because you moved closer to them just last summer. The implosion of your family's happily little bubble wasn't public knowledge, thank goodness.

“Okay.” He bites his lip and wonders why you want to walk with him. If it’s some sort of trick. He nods and decides that walking with you is better than being alone. “Do you need anything from your locker?”

"Yeah." Nodding, you hold up the books in your arms. "I need to swap these and grab my jacket. It will only take a second, I promise." It shouldn't make you feel so warm and pleased that a boy - this boy - wants to walk home with you, but he's sweet. He's always been sweet. Ever since he moved here when you were kids. It was a shame when he came to school one day with no trace of his accent left, but it hadn't made him any less cute.

“Hopefully they won’t double back, so you can take your time.” He doesn’t want to rush you, even though every second counts. It’s the most he’s ever talked to you and he likes it. You are nice. It doesn’t hurt that he has been harboring a crush on you.

Opening the classroom door carefully, you poke your head into the hallway to see it mostly cleared and swallow a sigh. "I think they're gone," you murmur, reaching back to wave for him to follow you. "C'mon. We'll be on our way home in no time."

“Hopefully I beat my father home.” Max huffs as he follows you out of the classroom and both of you hustle down the hall.

"Will you be in trouble if you don't?" That idea bothers you, but not knowing anything about his father, you're not sure if it's realistic or not. He wouldn't be the first kid to get yelled at or even hit for not following a rule.

“It- it’s best if we hurry.” Max admits, biting his lip. “I don’t know if he planned to stop by the bar before coming home and he doesn’t like it when my chores are not done.”

"I can help." You promise instantly, tugging your locker open to exchange your books and shove them into your bag to go home. Your mother is still working and will be for hours. As long as you're home and have dinner ready for her when she gets there, she doesn't keep track of what else you do.

“You-“ he’s momentarily lost for words at your offer. No one has ever offered to help him. With anything. “You don’t have to do that.” He promises.

"It's okay." The smile you give him at the opportunity to be helpful and spend a little more time with him, is brilliant. "Come on, we should hightail it and between the two of us we'll have everything done in no time."

“Are you sure?” He frowns, not wanting to take advantage of your kindness.

“Absolutely.” Slamming your locker closed, you grab his hand and head for the exit, feeling positively brave. Your crush on Max might be unrequited, but at least you can be his friend. Everyone deserves a friend.

“My house.” He grimaces and swallows slightly. “It’s not….fancy.” He feels his face get hot and he’s a little defensive. “But it’s clean. My mother says that being poor is no excuse for being dirty.”

“My house isn’t fancy, either.” When he doesn’t pull his hand away you just keep it, wondering why it’s taken you all the way to senior year to even do this much. You’ve never been particularly brave, but this is just…it’s just talking to someone. Right? “It’s okay. Fancy doesn’t automatically equal better.”

“Yes it does.” Max argues, looking at you like you are crazy. “Fancy is always better. It means that you can have the best.” He sighs. “One day I will have the best of everything.”

****

“You remember me?” As much as you remember him - every detail, down to the curve of his nose that he hates and the hair that he had dyed and apparently dyed back again - you didn’t expect him to remember you. It’s been years since the last time you saw him face to face. A whole ten years or more. He stopped coming back to Lubbock after a while and you didn’t exactly blame him. There was never anything exciting going on there.

“Of course I remember you.” You were one of the few good memories he had from Lubbock. “What are you doing here?” Of all the people in New York, he had never anticipated seeing you. And apparently his neighbor. He had expected you to be married and have kids, although that could still be true. His eyes drop down to your left hand and he can’t see it because it’s holding a plate of cookies.

“I—I live across the hall.” As startled as you are, you’re still standing in the hallway of your apartment building and you shift your weight nervously from foot to foot. “I saw a box in the chute marked for toys, so I thought I’d bring cookies and introduce myself.” Now that you know it’s Max, though, your cheeks are burning hotter than the early July heatwave. “Just…wanted to be friendly, that’s all.”

“It’s- it’s good to see you.” Max opens the door wider, motioning for you to come in. “How long has it been?” He knows exactly how long it has been since he’s seen you. Twelve years, two months and six days since he’s last seen you.

“Twelve years.” You answer far too quickly, but you step inside his apartment anyway. It’s identical to yours except being flipped - a mirror image that lets you know where everything is with only minimal thought. “It’s good to see you too. You’ve…well, it’s been a long time. I’m sure you’ve been up to a lot. You always had big dreams.”

He frowns, certain that you must have known about the dream stone incident. Been affected by it. “Yes, I did. That is over now.” He looks back at the closed bedroom door at the end of the hall. “All I want is to be a good dad.”

“Who says that’s not a big dream?” Carefully setting the plate down on the corner of his kitchen counter, you wipe your hands nervously and shove them in your pockets. “If you ask me, that's about the biggest dream there is. Parenthood is a big deal.”

“Yes.” He nods seriously. “I let Alistair down once, but I will not let him down again.” He sighs and looks up at you guiltily. “Do you have kids?”

“I was never lucky enough.” Something that your mother considers the ultimate failing. She considers your choice to be a career woman to be a betrayal of her plan for you. The fact that you wouldn’t just settle for any guy who would have you was a tragedy in her book. “I have a job I love, and a cat to keep me company.”

“I like cats.” Max offers nervously, looking around the apartment and wondering what you think of the mess he has accumulated. “Sorry I’m not unpacked.” He offers, eyes finding you again and finding you just as pretty as he remembered. Maybe more so.”

“I didn't expect you would be.” A smile quirks up the corners of your mouth and you can’t help being glad to see his hair back to its natural brown. You had seen the blonde in his tv commercials and on the news — it didn’t suit him. “Hell, I think it took me a month to unpack and it was just me and Dantes.” You fluster slightly, finding his eyes on you. “That’s…that’s my cat.

“Dantes huh?” His lips quirk up in a grin, something that hasn’t happened in a long time. “Like the Inferno?” He jokes.

"I named him after the Count of Monte Cristo, but he's as temperamental as a volcano." He still has the most beautiful smile, it twists your stomach exactly the way it did when you were teenagers. "You can come over and say hi anytime you like. I'm just across the hall...and even if I'm at work Dantes loves company."

“Alistair would love that. He has always wanted a pet, but….” He frowns, remembering that he had always said that he would get him one later and later never came. Another failing. “He would love it.” He finishes lamely.

"Come over anytime," you repeat, smiling a little brighter when that old, familiar crease notches in Max's forehead. "I'm sure Alistair and Dantes will get along famously." It will have the added benefit of getting to see him sometimes, and despite feeling ridiculous for still nursing your schoolgirl crush, you won't deny yourself a small, private pleasure. "It's nice to have an old friend around again."

You had been a friend to him, one of the few. The bittersweet pang of regret thumps inside him and he nods. “That would be good.” He agrees. “My- my ex-wife had animals and he- he misses them.” He admits.

“No problem.” Instinctively your hand goes out to him, touching him gently on the arm. “But I’m…I’m sorry to hear that. The ex part…”

Max can only blame himself. He had spent too much time chasing his dreams and Genji had grown tired of waiting for him to pay attention to her. He was lucky she let Alistair live with him, although it left her able to travel with her new husband. He shrugs. “She is happier and I am grateful for our son.”

“Sounds like you got the winning end of the deal to me.” You offer him a smile, knowing that transitions can be difficult. And divorces are never easy either.

“Only after almost losing him.” Max acknowledges, frowning as he remembers how frightened Alistair was, and how he had to run away because of Max’s mistakes. “But that is now the past. We are here for a fresh start.”

“New York is a great place for a fresh start.” He’s probably more than sick of talking about what happened, and you have no desire to sully this unexpected little reunion, so you don’t say a thing about it. “Definitely more to do than in Lubbock,” you joke instead.

“What brought you here?” Max asks, interested in your life since he last saw you.

“The intense desire to get away from my mother.” It’s only half a joke, and you chuckle when the corners of his lips turn up in understanding. “I work for a publishing house in Midtown. It’s good work and decent pay. And it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than editing articles for the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal and sitting through tedious dinners with whatever men my mother was trying to set me up with.”

“You never married?” He frowns slightly, unable to believe that someone would not have snatched you up.

“I was engaged once. It…didn’t work out.” Finding out he’d been cheating on you for half your relationship doomed that marriage before it could even start. You’re just glad that you had found out about it before walking down that aisle. You’re almost grateful that that girl out in St. Louis had decided to call you up and cuss you out. “What they say about airline pilots might not be true of all, but it’s certainly true of some.”

“I’m sorry.” He winces and shakes his head. “He must have been an idiot to let you slip away.” You had been his dream girl for a long time until he had met Genji.

"He wanted the world on a string." It was what he always said. It just wasn't until later that you had realized what he meant by it. "Sounds like we both had idiots in our lives. Otherwise she wouldn't have let you get away, either."

“I was never there.” Max admits. “Even when I was. I was too focused on becoming someone.”

"You'll be there for him now." You can hear him playing in the back bedroom, crowing happily over a spaceman toy. "And he's lucky to have you."

“I hope so.” Failure is one of Max’s greatest fears and he’s already done that.

"You never could see how special you are." It slips out before you can stop it, a slight shrug of your shoulders is the best you can do in pseudo-self-defense. He never did think much of himself, but the more you had gotten to know Max, the more obvious it was to you that that was a result of how his father treated him.

“You don’t know the things that I’ve done.” It’s selfish but he hopes you never find out. “I better finish unpacking the kitchen before the pizza gets here.” He knows you wouldn’t want to stay and he doesn’t want to be rejected so he doesn’t invite you for the pepperoni pizza.

"I, uh--I'll get out of your hair." The way he shuts down breaks your heart a little, but you nod your understanding. You've overstayed your welcome and he has never felt as strongly about your friendship as you did. That's just...well, it's just life. "It's...it's really good to see you, Max."

“It’s good to see you again too.” He promises, smiling slightly. “I’m sure we will run into you again. We are neighbors.”

"Yes. It's good to see you, too." With your heart in your throat, you nod and make yourself smile as you step back to go out the door. "I'll see you around, neighbor."

****

“So prom is coming up.” Max frowns slightly as he walks with you. He’s nervous because you haven’t said anything about prom and you talk about everything. He wonders if you have a date that you don’t want to tell him about. “Are you going?”

"I don't think so." Walking home together has become a ritual. Today you wrap your jacket a little tighter as you walk to block out the early spring chill and try not to get excited about the question he's just asked. No one else had asked you to prom, that's true. But you would have turned them down anyway -- you've been holding your breath hoping that Max would ask. "Can't go to prom without a date."

“We should go.” Max argues. “It’s Senior Prom. We can’t miss out on memories like that.” He’s been working on the weekends with his dad to save up for a tuxedo rental and a corsage. “The theme is ‘Enchantment Under the Sea’.” He reminds you.

"You...want to take me to prom?" You know the smile on your face is far too wide, but this is exactly what you've been dreaming of. These walks home, spending a little time at his house before his dad gets home from work, even starting to chat a little with his mother sometimes. You may not be Max's girlfriend, but you want to be, and you've made every effort possible to show him that.

“If you want to.” Max bites his lip. “I know you will probably have someone else ask you, and it’s okay if you’d rather go with them, but I’ve been saving up to buy a corsage and take you out to eat.” He admits. “I’ve been working with my dad.”

"I want to." It's too quick of a reply to be ladylike, but you don't much care about that. Not when you're actually being asked by the right boy. "With you. I want to go to prom with you. Yes."

“Yeah?” He’s surprised, but grins happily. “Then let’s go to prom together.” He nods, beaming and his posture straightens proudly. “You and me, we will have fun.” He promises.

"Yes, we will." Already convinced of it, you don't care a single second for anything or anyone else in the world right now. Max asked you to prom. That's all you've wanted for ages. "I'm going to make my dress," you announce, smiling up at him as you walk down the sidewalk. "My mother has some extra fabric from a wedding that she made dresses for. It's the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seen."

“That will be good.” He nods. “Do you want me to match your dress?”

"If you want to." The idea is a little thrilling - looking like you belong together - and you nod. "I think you'd look very handsome in blue."

“Then that will be the tuxedo that I order.” He promises, looking forward to the idea of going with you and seeing you dressed up. For him.

It doesn't seem real that he would actually want to go with you, but as you walk alongside him toward his house it feels like the very best kind of dream. He isn't shy about wanting the best of everything, and you always encourage him, but it isn't like you're the prettiest or most popular girl in school. There are other, arguably better choices. But he still asked you. "I can't wait."

He smiles, amazed that you had said yes. He doesn’t know why, but you seem to like being around him. “We will have a good time. Dance and see what the fuss is about.”

"I don't think I've ever seen you dance." There's no reason you would have, all things considered, but the thought spreads your smile a little further.

“I can dance.” He huffs, almost insulted by the idea that he couldn’t. The fact that he’s been practicing in his bedroom by himself is irrelevant.

"I never said you couldn't!" When he pouts like that it makes you want to find out if his lips are as soft as they look but you would never try to kiss him out of the blue. Only fast girls kiss boys they aren't going steady with - and your mother warned you what happens to fast girls. Well...she's said 'And you know what happens to fast girls, don't you?', but you were always too scared to admit that you didn't have any clue what she was talking about.

“Good, because I can.” Just to prove his point, he stops walking and grabs your hand to pull you into his arms to dance a small little circle around right there on the sidewalk.

It's like a movie scene when he reaches for you, his hand on your back burning through you despite the chilly weather. You could just melt right into the pavement on the spot. "Well, look at you," you hum, feeling breathless with your heart beating so fast. "A real dancer."

“All gentlemen know how to dance.” He informs you, grinning widely as he lets go and steps back to bow gracefully.

"Then I'll have to work on becoming a little more ladylike for you before prom." A soft giggle escapes you when he bows, and you shift your bookbag on your shoulder.

“Don’t change a thing about yourself.” He protests, shaking his head. “You are just right as you are.”

"You're very sweet." As the two of you turn to start walking together again, your hand itches to reach for his so you shove it in your pocket. "The sweetest boy in the whole world is taking me to prom."

There’s nothing that he can say to that, his mind going completely blank except to repeat that you think he’s sweet over and over again. He bites his lip and tries not to look too happy about your comment.

"Have you heard back from any colleges yet?" He has talked about wanting to go. You've talked about it together, and he has so many ideas for what his business degree could turn into that it makes your head spin. But he hasn't said yet if he has had any acceptance letters so it's made you wonder.

“A few.” He sighs and wishes that he were rich or his family was rich. “I can’t go though.”

"You have to have been offered scholarships." You know what trouble he would have with being able to go. It's the same one you have which is exactly why your own mother told you to stop being stupid and forget about it. Colleges, apparently, aren't for girls.

“Not enough for Harvard.” He had already done the math, several times and just couldn’t afford it. “I have to turn down an Ivy League school because I’m too poor.” It stings and he hates it.

"I'm so sorry, Max..." His dreams mean the world to him, and you know it. But there are some things that are beyond even his grasp. If you could find a way to make the world perfect for him you would do it instantly, but that dream is still out of your grasp.

“It’s not your fault.” He swallows. “Have you been hearing from colleges?”

"No." You shake your head, staring down at your shoes as you walk. "All that work you helped me put into the applications and my mother took them out of the mailbox and threw them away." The words ring in your mind, her voice echoing in your head. "College isn't for girls."

“College is for everyone.” He argues, immediately upset for you. You had worked hard on those applications and they were really good. You would have gotten three of your choices for sure. “We can redo them, hope they accept them late?” He offers quickly.

"She wouldn't help me with tuition." And unfortunately, he knows that you would need financial help to go to school, too. "I would have to get a full scholarship somewhere, and even with good grades I just don't know if it would happen."

“If you don’t try, you won’t ever find out.” He reminds you. “Great rewards sometimes require great risks.”

He has no idea that he sounds wise when he says things like that, and when you tilt your head to peek up at him again he's looking at you so earnestly that you sigh quietly. It makes your heart ache to know how special he is to you and that he couldn't ever feel that way about you, but you'll soak up every ounce of his attention while you can possibly get it. Before he goes off and conquers the world or something. "You really think so?"

“I do.” He nods seriously and frowns as he thinks. “After- after my parents are asleep, I could sneak over and help you.” He murmurs quietly. “Apply to your top three and I’ll mail them off from my house. That way she can’t throw them away.”

"Tonight." You decide, ready to believe anything is possible if he has that kind of faith in you. "Do you really think you can manage to sneak out? I don't want you to get in trouble on my account." His father could lose his temper over almost anything, and the last thing you wanted was for Max to suffer any extra. Not for you.

“I can.” He smirks slightly and straightens proudly. “We will make sure you go to college.” He knows you want to be an editor, maybe even a writer one day and he knows that a good college will make that happen.

Overwhelmed with the idea that it could be possible, you surge forward and grab his arm, planting a grateful kiss on his cheek before you pull away again just as fast. Your own face is burning, but just in this moment you find that you don't actually care that much. "Thank you," you murmur, beaming at him with gratitude and excitement. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve such a good friend. Thank you, Max."

“Thank you.” He murmurs quietly. “You are the one who befriended me.” He reminds you. You had pulled him into that classroom and saved him for another beating.

"I should have done it a long time ago." The embarrassment of not being braver stings, but there's nothing you can do besides swallow it down.

“No.” Max shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong. We all do what we have to. You were just trying to protect yourself.”

"Still." There isn't any point in wishing to change the past. You know that and he's right that you were trying to protect yourself. "You deserve the world, Max. Really."

“One day I will have the world.” He vows, grinning at you. “And so will you.”

****

It's a random, seemingly unimportant Saturday morning when a small knock sounds on your door. You had been sitting with a cup of coffee and a muffin trying to convince yourself to work on the draft of the book that you had been chipping away at for years when you heard it. Dantes mewed at the sound like it was rude for interrupting his long morning of staring at the ceiling, and you just laugh. "No, no," you chuckle at your cat. "Don't disturb yourself. I'll get it." The prim Russian Blue doesn't move when you get up from your seat and you peer through the peephole to see no one standing there at all. Opening the door curiously, you find a little boy with impossibly wide eyes standing on your doorstep. "Well, hello." You've seen this little boy before, coming in and out of the building or on the stairs, always hugging tight to Max's side. "You must be Alistair."

“Dad said that you have a cat that I could play with?” He asks, curious to find out the truth of this. “He knows I was coming over. He said he would be just a minute behind me. Is that okay?”

"Of course it is." Stepping back to let him inside, you point through the kitchen to the cat tree. "That's Dantes. Let me get you some of his favorite toys and a few treats you can give him, and you guys can play in the living room, okay?" This is a cat who loves kids, so you're sure everything will go well, but you want Max's son to go into the first meeting armed with all the right tools.

“Okay!” He grins at you and nearly bounces on his toes with glee. “I’m excited to meet him. I’ve wanted a pet for a long time but dad didn’t have time, but I don’t blame him.” He tells you seriously, nodding for emphasis.

“Your dad is doing his very best for you, and that includes making sure you had a neighbor with a cat to visit. You’re welcome to come over any time you like, and your dad is too.” You leave the door cracked open for Max to follow, careful that it isn’t enough for Dante’s to escape, and bring Alistair to get the cat’s favorite things so they can meet.

Max had been washing your plate to bring it over to you again. Alistair had been too eager and had decided that he couldn’t wait to go meet Dantes. Max didn’t have the heart to tell him to wait, so he had sent him over and hoped you would understand.

When he tentatively pushes the door open a few minutes later, Alistair is on the living room rug dangling a toy for Dante’s to bat around with a bowl full of kitty kibble and assorted small treats for the cat and a muffin and glass of juice for himself. You’ve set yourself back up at your little kitchenette table a few feet away, though your manuscript is now pushed aside in favor of the New York Times crossword. “Hey.” When you spy Max’s head peak around the door, you wave him in. “Morning, neighbor.”

“It’s not too early, is it?” He asks, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I wrangled him as long as I could.” He grins and shrugs. “But then breakfast was over.”

“It’s never too early.” Not for him is what you want to say, but instead you say, “not for friends.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Not until coffee for me. I used to take all these supplements and herbs, but now it’s just pure caffeine.”

“Can I pour you a cup? I always make a full pot for some reason and never drink it all.” Up and out of your seat before he can even answer, you’re grabbing a mug out of your cupboard and pulling out the bakery box from your trip down the block this morning. “I also have more muffins than one human can manage. I guess the wind told me to be ready for guests today.”

“I’m sorry we showed up unannounced.” Max winces and looks around. “If you have plans…..” He doesn’t want to intrude on your day if you are busy. It would be easy to get Alistair to leave. He’s been promising to take him to Central Park.

“I was going to sit and curse at my manuscript all day,” you admit with a shrug and pour out his cup. “You saved me from getting frustrated with myself.”

“Oh! A book?” He asks, remembering your dream of writing a book. “Is it your first? Or are you published under a pen name?”

"This would be my first. I've been fighting with it for years and I'm still not satisfied with the second half of the story." Coming back to the table, you set down a mug of coffee and the box of muffins for him with a plate. "Alistair asked for the chocolate chip, I hope it's okay that I said yes."

“Of course.” He can’t help but huff in amusement. “Probably better than the burned eggs and cereal we had for breakfast.”

“Help yourself,” you insist, motioning to the box. Sitting down across from him like this is oddly familiar - like your high school cafeteria should materialize around you any second - but you don’t dislike it.

“I appreciate it.” He’s remembering all the times you had eaten together over the years. Including the one meal he bought you before prom.

“How is the job search going?” The few little talks you had had in the stairwell or while grabbing your mail from the boxes in the lobby had clued you in to how Max’s life is running these days and it’s an unfortunate reality. Since the incident people have been wary of him and even downright rude.

“I will find something soon.” He forces out cheerily. “I am hoping that a few places will call me back.” He doubts it, but all he can do is hope someone gives him a chance.

“I know it isn’t…Your dream or anything, but the publishing house I work for is expanding so they’re hiring all sorts of positions.” It was something you had been discussing ad nauseam in the office and had been meaning to mention to him anyway. Now is as good a time as any. “I can get a complete list from my friend in HR if you like? And I’ll vouch for you if you decide to put in for anything.”

“Are you sure you want to be associated with me?” He asks seriously. Some of the comments you have made lead him to believe that you know what happened last winter. “I don’t want to put your profession or your own job at risk.”

“I’m sure.” You’ve always been sure about him. He might not understand it - hell, sometimes you didn’t always understand it - but that’s just how you feel about him. “I know you, Max. I trust you.”

“You haven’t seen me in twelve years before this week.” He reminds you quietly, looking down at the blueberry muffin in his hands. “I wasn’t a good man.”

“I might not know anything about Maxwell Lord,” you lower your voice, not conspicuously but not wanting to perk Alistair’s ears. “But I know Max Lorenzano. He helped me get into college. Took me to prom. Listened to every story and fear and triumph that I had for years. You were my best friend, Max. Let me repay you for helping me believe in myself.”

Max swallows harshly, overcome with the glowing review of a boy who had been so ashamed of being poor. It sounds like you preferred him. “Thank you.” He replies hoarsely.

“I know it’s been a while.” But you’ve thought about him constantly, and even though you might not admit that to him so that you don’t have to have an awkward conversation with your first love about him actually being your first love, you’re not shy about wanting to help. “I’d like to be friends again. Like we used to be.”

“Like we used to be.” He nods. Friends where a shy and awkward boy had an unrequited crush on you. He had survived it once and he could do it again to have you back in his corner.

“Alistair’s very sweet.” It changes the topic cleanly because you don’t want Max to get a whiff of the fact that your feelings for him have come back nearly full force. Not that he had any idea the first time around. Or if he did, he hadn’t let you know it. Instead you put your focus on his son, the excitable little boy that he has put all his focus in himself.

“He is a good kid.” Max can easily agree with that. “I don’t deserve him, but for some reason he loves me.” His eyes drift to the living room and he smiles when he sees Alistair petting Dantes and cooing happily at the attention loving cat.

If you were bold, you’d promise him that he’s not difficult at all to love, but you’ve never been bold. You hadn’t even been bold enough to kiss him at prom. Instead you smile warmly and pick up your coffee. “You deserve much more than you think.”

“I think we will have to disagree on that.” He murmurs, snorting softly. “I didn’t realize what I was doing until I almost lost him. An angry mob, coming for me, scared him and he was wandering the streets of D.C. by himself.” He stares down at his coffee mug, glad to get this off his chest. “I would have never forgiven myself if he had been hurt.”

“What is life if not making mistakes and learning lessons?” You had been watching right along with the rest of the world while it all happened, but being on the outside must have been a very different experience than being where he was on the inside. “He’s okay. He’s safe, and he has a father who loves him. In time you’ll learn to forgive yourself like he’s already forgiven you.”

“Perhaps.” Max won’t agree with that, but he also won’t count it out. “First I need to prove that I can be useful. Helpful.��

"Sometimes it's okay to just have fun, too." But you won't push. Or press. "I haven't seen you since college," you say instead. "What have you been up to, besides having that angel of a little boy?"

“Married…divorced.” Max sighs and shrugs. “Tried to make Black Gold work. I really did. Convinced I was going to find oil.”

"There are lots of places in the world with oil. It isn't so crazy to think that you would find some." Anytime you had seen his name in the papers, you had tried to follow it. Unfortunately it seemed to be more bad news than good for the last few years.

“Except I never did.” He has made an uneasy peace with his past and shrugs slightly. “Perhaps it was for the best. I certainly learned humility.”

"There must have been bright spots." You can't believe that his entire adult life has been miserable.

“Not as many as there were during our senior year.” He admits with a small chuckle. “I was chasing the dream and didn’t stop to admire the roses.”

"Maybe that's what this is, then." The urge to take it as a compliment to you is there, but it would be conceited to think that he means you were what made it good. "Time to stop and admire the world around you."

“Admire the world around me, huh?” He contemplates it for a moment, wondering where you go so wise, but then he remembers that you have been living your dream for some time. Max just needs to figure out what his new dream is. “I think you are right.”

****

It took a couple of weeks for Max to go through the interview process, and your bosses had pulled you into a conference room with an HR rep for an hour of round table "Are you fucking serious?" about the fact that your name is listed as a personal reference on his resume. In the end they had relented. In eight years with the company you had never had a single mark against you on your file and you're one of the most productive editors on staff. If they're going to take anyone's word at all about a potential new hire, it's going to be yours. Now, two weeks into Max's time as a member of the office's janitorial staff, your coworkers are starting to take notice. They've noticed that you arrive together every morning and leave together every evening, and that sometimes you chat quickly in the hall in passing. Almost all of them have recognized him at this point, of course, and it seems like they've deputized your closest work friend to ask you about him.

Max is eager to please, finding that the work is not beneath him as he might have once imagined. He pushes his cart around the offices with pride and tries to ignore the dirty looks and comments. Especially the prick in editing that purposefully made a mess for him to clean up. Seemingly enjoying watching Max clean up after him. He sees one of your co-works walking up to you so he doesn’t stop, just giving you both a respectful nod and a small smile as he makes his way to the bathrooms for their twice a day cleaning.

It’s good to see him taking pride in what he’s doing now. Tangible results of his work being something that seems to satisfy Max in a way you hadn’t expected but are grateful to see. “Hey Kim.” She’s buzzing directly over to you without being subtle, so you slow down to talk to her.

“Soooooooooo.” She lifts her brows and looks at Max’s retreating back. Instead of the boxy power suits he had been wearing, he was wearing a pair of work chinos and a polo shirt. Perhaps a little more dressy than most janitors but it’s an effort to look professional. “This is interesting.”

“The hallway?” You raise a skeptical eyebrow at her, continuing to walk back toward your desks at the other end of the floor. “I don’t know that I would call it interesting.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She huffs and jostles your shoulder lightly. “Max Lord.” She clarifies, rolling her eyes. “How do you know him?”

Yes, you knew, but that doesn’t mean you’ve exactly been excited for someone to come asking about it. You know what people still think of him. “We grew up together,” you tell Kim honestly. “Same home town in Texas.”

“You grew up with Max Lord?” Her eyes widen and flutter back towards the hallway where Max’s cart is sitting outside the Men’s restroom.

“Yep.” Trying to not make it seem like a big deal, you shrug. “We were friends. Now he’s my neighbor and we’re friends again.”

“Friends.” She’s skeptical about that, but she can’t deny that Max is far more attractive in person than he was in those horrible television ads. “Uh huh, if you want to keep your cards close…” she eyes you, waiting to see if you say anything else.

“What?” Her face says she doesn’t believe you, and she’s fucking right not to but you do your best to look innocent.

“You haven’t noticed that - despite being Max Lord - your friendly, neighbor janitor is a very good looking man?” She scoffs slightly and sends you a knowing look. “And just your type based on the men you like looking at when we drag you out to happy hour.”

“There isn’t any despite being with Max,” you defend instantly, feeling a little indignant. “He’s a good guy who did wrong and he’s doing everything he can to rebuild his life now.” It’s bad enough he got bullied in school, he doesn’t deserve that bullshit at work, too. “And—” Clearing your throat carefully doesn’t help you sound less guilty at all. “I…don’t have a type.”

Her brows shoot up at the vehemence in your voice and she doesn’t remind you that he almost destroyed the entire world with that wish granting trick he had pulled. She doesn’t think that you would listen and you are a good friend. “If you say so.” She murmurs quietly. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

"There's nothing for me to get hurt about." A fact which makes swallowing hard for longer than you're proud of, and you avert your eyes back to watching your shoes tread the carpet like you used to do in the halls of your high school walking side by side with him.

“Do you want to come out with us tonight?” Sensing that you are wanting to change the subject, she obliges. “We are going out for apps and drinks.”

“Sure.” It’s been a while since you had a night out with the girls - since Max appeared in your life - and it sounds like a good idea. Like having fun instead of sitting in your apartment hoping and wondering if he’ll come over to say hello after already being at work together all day. “The usual spot?” There’s a bar not far from the office that does great food, and sometimes there’s single guys from other nearby offices to flirt with. It usually makes for an entertaining Friday night.

“Absolutely.” She nods, shooting you a grin.

“Okay. I’ll just let Max know.” It will be the first time since starting his job that he’s committed home alone, but it’s not a difficult trip. He already knows the connections by heart.

“You…..you should bring him.” Kim says after a moment. “Let him hang out socially. Might help.”

"Are you sure?" The look you give Kim is skeptical, knowing that some of the girls you usually get drinks with might not be so warm about getting to know Max. And usually there aren't many guys that tag along. "Are any of the guys coming tonight?"

“There’s Brad and Dan.” She acknowledges, shrugging slightly. “It could be good for them to see him as a normal man.”

"It would be good for them to see normal human interaction." You roll your eyes, but only playfully. Brad is more than a little bit of a horndog and Dan seems to have learned everything about how to be manly from Brad. It isn't a bad thought. Getting to get to know some people outside of their roles at the office is probably a really good idea, actually. Contemplating it for a second, you nod. "I'll invite him. But if he ends up not being able to come it's probably because his babysitter couldn't stay late on short notice, not because he doesn't want to be social."

“Then I won’t tell anyone that he might come.” She decides, knowing that surprising them might them best thing anyway. You both stop at your desk and she reaches out and touches your arm, “I don’t want you to be cross with me.” She tells you. “I just wanted to see what was going on.”

"I'm not cross." Kim has always been a good friend, and you squeeze her hand back gently. "I just wish it were easier for him to get the clean slate he came here for. But you're right. Socializing will be good."

“It doesn’t help that he broadcasted his mistake.” Kim reminds you quietly. “But I have to admit, he’s been nothing but polite since he’s been working here. And the bathrooms are spotless.”

"He knows he did wrong. And everyone deserves a chance to start fresh." At least, that's what you've always said. And so far you haven't had too many people who made you briefly regret your optimism. "It's nice of you to think of inviting him. He really is a good guy underneath everything that happened."

“He’s attractive.” She has to admit, “especially with the darker hair that looks more natural on him.”

“The blonde didn’t suit him.” A nostalgic smile drifts across your face that you barely even notice but Kim surely does. “He dyed it back to its natural color. The way he looked when we were growing up.”

“And you didn’t date?” She smiles skeptically.

“No.” A thing that makes you glance away and fluster more than you’re proud of. “We went to prom together, but we never went steady or anything.”

“Oh.” She nods and bites her lip. “Well, let me know about tonight, okay?” She doesn’t want you to be upset if it’s a case of unrequited love and that seems to be what it is.

“I will.” Your nod is enough to make her comfortable taking away, and it’s about an hour later that you catch Max moving across the hall to restock the kitchenette that services this floor of the building.

Max reasons that the staff of the publishing house is lucky. The management provides complimentary snacks and drinks beyond packs of peanuts and coffee. It’s really impressive and it makes him think of what he would have offered his own staff if Black Gold had actually become successful. He regrets how he had to tell Raquel that he couldn’t pay her that last paycheck, but he had managed to send it to her three months later when he had sold his house.

“Hey.” Slipping into the kitchen to pour a fresh cup of coffee, you grin seeing Max so diligent and seemingly satisfied with each thing he gets done. Any job is good that can be satisfying. “How’s your day?”

"I do not know how some people can be so disgusting in public." He shudders and shakes his head. "The men are the worst....but," he grimaces and lowers his voice. "I do not know how some could keep their....sanitary products unwrapped when they are used."

"Women are absolutely gross." You tell him sagely, nodding with a solemn expression to keep from giggling. "If Alistair had a sister you'd see it full force, I promise."

"I am not unused to women's monthly issues." He insists. "I was married to Alistair's mom and would often buy her the things she needed." When he remembered, which was less often than he should have. It was another regret he had, but he couldn't make up for it now.

"Speaking of things we do monthly." Waggling your eyebrows at the lame segue to make him laugh, your smile spreads when you get a confused look out of him. "Some of our coworkers are going out for drinks and stuff after work tonight. You're invited, if you'd like to call Señora Ramos and ask her to stay with Alisitair a little later."

His expression is one of shock and then he frowns. "I don't know if I should." He admits, glancing towards the door of the break room. "I don't want to cause you issues." He knows that you have taken some flack since you had convinced your bosses to give him a chance. Even if you deny it, he's caused you problems. The last thing he wants is for you to suffer more when you've been an incredible friend to him.

"You're not." And no matter how many times you need to repeat it, you always will. Max is never going to get his confidence back as long as he thinks of himself as a burden. And to you? He is anything but. "It might be good to spend time with people out of the office. Make some new friends?"

"I doubt that." He scoffs slightly and bites his lip. It would be nice to spend some time with you outside of the apartments and the office. Socially. Like that one dinner that he had managed to pay for all those years ago. "Do you want me to go?"

"Of course I do." There is no possible way you would want anything else, unless going out would truly make him unhappy somehow. "I love spending time with you." Yup. That's how that sentence goes. Absolutely.

He quietly thinks about it for a long moment before he nods. "I will call Señora Ramos and see if she can watch Alistair for a few more hours." He decides and despite his worries, his posture straightens and he looks excited.

"You deserve a night to be an adult," you remind him, but the way he straightens has you hoping that he's looking forward to it now. "I'll see you at the end of the day, okay? We can walk over to the bar together."

"I will see you then." He nods, knowing he will have to call the babysitter right away before he can really start looking forward to the idea of going out with you and your friends.

******

When the end of the work day comes, you're eager to leave your desk behind. Max hadn't come by your desk to tell you that there was a problem with plans for the evening so you're looking forward to being able to just relax with your friends - both old and new.

Max finishes up his work early, busting his ass to make sure he was done and able to put all of his supplies away and be ready for you at the elevators on time. He has gotten the go ahead from Señora Ramos and was looking forward to buying you a drink.

"Ready to go?" Though you beg your mind not to brim with memories of him picking you up for prom, they're at the top of your mind anyway as the elevator opens and Max strides out into the lobby.

"I am." He had to dry his hands on a paper towel on the way down to the lobby and shove it in his pocket. "Are you?" He asks, lifting his brows and giving you a chance to reconsider. He wouldn't blame you.

"Absolutely." You would take his hand under different circumstances. As it is, your fingers twist around the strap of your purse as you nod toward the doors. "Kim and some of the others just went ahead to grab us tables."

“Oh.” He frowns slightly but nods. “Then we should hurry, no?”

"It's not a race." It does make you chuckle, though, and you nod toward the doors before starting to walk. "We're five minutes behind at the absolute most."

"Where do you normally go to do this 'happy hour'?" Max asks as he guides you out of the building and lets you turn him in the right direction.

"There's a place called Pollard's a couple of blocks away that has really good drink deals and small plate stuff. I'm a big fan of filling myself with margaritas and flatbread on a Friday night." In fact it was something of a ritual, and you're glad to share that with him if he's inclined to it. Alistair is a strict cheese-only kind of kind when it comes to pizza but there is a whole world of more adult flavours to get behind.

"It has been a long time since I have had a margarita." He admits, wondering how you act when you have alcohol. Genji used to make fun of him for being too earnest, too eager to please when he was drunk. He had switched to champagne to make himself seem more sophisticated but actually hated the taste.

"Then you'll have to share with me." The idea lights you up inside and you nudge him while you walk. "They do this margarita tower thing...it sounds impressive but it's two or three drinks each and ridiculously cheap. Best margaritas in the city."

"Then we will have that." Max grins and nods. "And you like the...flatbreads?" He doesn't know what it is, but you seem happy about having one.

"It's just fancy pizza." You grin when he sounds confused and put your nose in the air while you walk. "Fancy metropolitan pizza. I thought you might like a change of pace from all the cheese all the time."

Max groans and rolls his eyes. "Aliastair has to try something else." He pouts slightly. "Even if it's just pepperoni."

"One day we'll have him eating a huge variety. But not quite yet." That pout hasn't changed in twenty years. It still makes you want to wrap him up in your arms and cuddle it away. Which is why you immediately shove your hands in your pockets when you see it. "For now, we'll have some adult treats."

"Something other than Fruit Loops." Max snorts with a grin. "He had me buy two boxes when we went to the bodega last weekend."

"I promise." You hold up your pinky to him after scurrying across a busy street. "No Fruit Loops."

Chuckling as he rings his own pinky around yours, he feels like he's back in high school with you. Promising that he won't become friends with your cousin, as if that could have ever happened. "I want to buy your drinks and food tonight." He tells you.

"You don't have to do that." In fact, you had been planning on just paying the tab for both of you. Considering that you're the one who invited him, you didn't want him to feel pressured or have to count pennies.

"I want to. To say thank you." He shoves his hands into his pockets and concentrates on the steps in front of him. "For helping me find the job, for being a good friend." He lowers his voice slightly. "For not hating me."

"I could never hate you." Sure there had been things you didn't understand. Or times you were hurt when he lavished attention on other people. Like the girls at college that he had told you about during their holiday breaks. But hate? You could never. "I'm glad to have my best friend back."

Friend. He reminds himself that was what he was to you. No more. He frowns slightly as he suddenly thinks about something that makes his heart drop. "You- is there someone you meet at your happy hour meetings?" He asks, slightly jealous of the idea.

"There's a couple of people who always come. Kim, Jennifer, and Gretchen for sure. And usually Carmen. Apparently this time Brad and Dan are coming, too," you tell him, fully misunderstanding the question.

"And which one are you happiest to see?" Max asks, happy mood suddenly souring.

"I mean...usually Kim, I guess?" It's impossible to stop on the pavement in the middle of Midtown, but you tilt your head and your forehead furrows when he looks upset. "Why? Do you...not like some of them?"

"I see." He shakes his head. "No, I do not know them." He reminds you. "I understand now why it never...." He breaks off and shakes his head again, adopting a charming smile. "Never mind, I am eager to meet your friends."

There's a train of thought there that you can't quite follow, but you nod vaguely and keep walking. The two of you are quiet when you pull open the door to Pollard's and Kim waves enthusiastically from a place in the corner where a half dozen small tables have been pushed together for your group. "Looks like we're over there."

Max hangs back slightly, both wary of everyone's reception of him and mulling over the knowledge that you had never been interested in him because you liked women. He had wondered why you never seemed to want to take things farther with him. One of the reasons he had looked so hard for someone in college, to get you off his mind.

After giving hugs to your friends and sitting down beside Kim, you pull out the chair on your other side for Max. The group looks like they've been told to behave themselves - something you'll thank Kim for later - and you look around you only to notice that he hasn't sat down yet. "Max?"

"Hello." Max nods to everyone and bites his lip. "Do you mind if I join you?" It's important that he doesn't insert himself where he's not wanted. Something that he would do too often in his bid for respectability and investments.

"You're more than welcome," Kim insists, waving her hand at the chair on your other side. Everybody had agreed to play nice tonight for your sake. Generally speaking you're just too nice for your own good, and most of your extended work-friend group is curious. "Food here is great. I don't know if our girl told you or not on the way over."

Our girl. Max smiles politely and sits. "She has told me about the margaritas and the flatbread pizzas." He nods and looks around at everyone and wonders what they really think about him being here. "So I believe I will like it."

"Let me guess," Kim hums, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Margarita tower?" "Of course." It's kind of your go-to anytime you have someone to share it with, and you stretch out with a happy grin at the table. "Max needs a rest from the world of juice boxes and cheese pizza."

"You have a child?" Jennifer asks curiously. "I didn't know that."

"His son's an angel." You offer, smiling at Max, who looks uncomfortable again. "He's my cat's new favorite playmate."

“Alistair is eight.” Max tells them. “The best son anyone could ask for. Sweet and kind, loving.” All traits that Max needed to improve on as an adult, but Alistair’s faith in him, your faith in him, kept him pushing forward.

“Eight is such a good age.” Gretchen goes a little dreamy. Everyone knows her kids are hell on wheels now that they’re teenagers, and she misses when they were little. “Curiosity is at a premium at that age. They’re like little sponges. And so sweet. Oh you’re so lucky.”

"Very lucky." Max can wholeheartedly agree with that. "We have been exploring the museums on the weekends and he asks so many questions that the tour guides don't know." It makes him regret not taking him to more museums while they were in D.C., but he is enjoying the outings with his son and is proud of his curiosity.

“Does he have a library card yet?” She asks, obviously enjoying memories of that age. “My youngest loved the themed story hours until she was eleven or twelve.”

“He doesn’t, but I should get him one.” Max tilts his head in interest. “He loves to read and watch movies.”

“It’s worth it.” Gretchen promises with a smile, and she picks up her menu. “No matter where you are in the city, you can always find a branch.”

“Thank you.” Max replies sincerely. “I will take him to get a card this weekend. We are planning on picnicking in Central Park.” He chuckles. “Which, to Alistair, means pizza at the park.”

“Central Park and the library sounds like a perfect day.” It twists your heart a little - the number of times you’ve thought about what would have happened if you have been brave enough to tell Max how you felt years ago. If Alistair would be your little boy instead of someone else’s. The result has been that you soak up every minute of time that Max’s son is willing to spend with you.

“Would you like to come with us?” Mac is always happy to have you with him. You make the even brighter with your company, just like when you were in high school.

"I'd love to." There's no hesitation for you. No question or even need to consider. Any chance you get to spend with Max, you're going to take it. "You guys have been spending a lot of time together, huh?" Kim asks, amusement twitching in the corner of her mouth. She had thought that you were acting a little defensive earlier because of some unrequited thing, but now she thinks you might just be oblivious to how requited it could be. Not that she would ever get mixed up with a guy like Max Lord, but you seem to have a unique history with the guy.

“She has been very kind to us.” Max is careful to not sully your reputation with telling them how most evenings are spent together and you’ve taught him to make more than mac and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. “New York is very different from D.C. and we are grateful to have someone who knows the area like she does.”

"Rekindling the old friendship, right?" It's a little bit of prodding, sure, but she's also trying to peel away at that Maxwell Lord veneer that they all saw on tv for so long and make him a real person to your other friends.

“I was very lucky to have her as my friend.” Max admits, looking down at his hands shyly. “Believe it or not, I was not well liked when I was younger.” He chuckles at how true that still was, although that was because of his mistakes rather than his misfortune of being poor or an immigrant.

"Neither of us was," you amend, not wanting him to feel singled out by that fact. "If not for Max, I wouldn't have survived senior year. And I definitely wouldn't have gone to college."

“That was a long night.” He remembers, smiling slightly at the memory. “But your admission papers were perfect.” He had sent them off like he had promised and you had been accepted to all of them, with scholarships.

"My mother was furious." A fact which makes you giggle now, so many years later. "Until it became a bragging point. She found out that one of the colleges I applied to was all women, and suddenly I was making a modest, pious choice to educate myself to be a good wife." You roll your eyes heavily, knowing that your years at Sarah Lawrence had radicalized you in ways that your mother could never have dreamed of. "Imagine her disappointment when I went and got a career after college instead of a husband."

“She should be proud of you.” Max shakes his head, still unable to believe what your mother had put you through. “I was. I am. You are in a prestigious position and working on becoming a published author.”

"All thanks to you, it sounds like." Kim is actually smiling, and Gretchen's expression has turned from curious to fond. "You know, this is the most we've ever been able to get her to open up about the old days. Normally she just glosses over any hometown or family questions."

“Oh.” He tosses you a look, hoping that he has not overstepped. “Life was not great for us, but we managed together and we had fun. Prom was possibly the best night of my life until the day Alistair was born.”

"Did you go to prom together?" Gretchen looks like she might melt at that, while Brad and Dan are clearly regretting that there isn't something less girly to talk about.

“Yeah.” Max nods and grins slightly. “It was a good night. We had fun and I still have the pictures we took.”

"You still have those?" Somehow you hadn't expected that, and it makes you light up and soften at the same time. "My mother got rid of my copies...along with pretty much everything else."

“She was always a…difficult woman.” Max sighs. “Genji made sure that she kept them when we divorced but returned all my stuff when we moved to New York.”

"Sounds like your ex-wife and my mother would have gotten along well," you grumble sympathetically when the waitress appears to take your drink orders.

Max defers to you, letting you order first and adding a glass of water in addition to the margarita tower.

Several beers, Gretchen's Long Island Iced Tea, and Kim's white wine selection later, you're all engrossed in looking through food options. The reason you like this place that is it's easy to blend into the background and still get decent service. Yours isn't the only office that empties into this building on a Friday night, and a group of tables nearby is taken up by some folks from a nearby marketing firm that you recognize as fellow regulars. It's just a cordial, relaxed atmosphere that is more than welcome after a long work week.

“They have a lot of options.” Max hums as he looks through the menu. “Have you had anything other than the flatbreads?”

"Not much," you admit with a guilty grin. "Do you want to try something else? I don't mind broadening my horizons a little."

“We could always get the appetizer thing.” He points to a sampler. “And your flatbread. Splitting it and trying more things?”

"If that's what sounds good to you, I'm in." He could suggest almost anything and you would go along with it, so this is barely a compromise. All you want is for him to enjoy himself tonight.

He nods, smiling at you and relaxing slightly. No one has been rude yet and it feels almost like the old days, although he’s still slightly upset he never realized that you were into women.

It's a comfortable evening, with people loosening up after some drinks and food. Brad drags Jennifer away from her seat to dance at one point, even though this is definitely a bar that does not have a dance floor. It's warm and comfortable and there is something extra in the air tonight that is probably just the margaritas talking, but it has you smiling and laughing even more than usual.

As the evening goes on, Max relaxed a little more. Somehow the buttons of his polo pop open and he leans back and ruffles his hand through his hair as the alcohol mellows him out. Sticking close to you and to Kim, he has tried to figure out the dynamic and it’s driving him crazy. He wants to be a good friend and be supportive of you, but he also wishes that he had taken that chance so many years ago and kissed you when it seemed like the right moment for it.

You're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...you'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much... Frankie Valli croons through the speakers in the bar, making your head jump up and your eyes snap over to Max. Like the memory of senior prom wasn't enough, that song throws you back in time harder than a slingshot.

******

Max tries to suppress his nerves, praying his hands aren’t sweaty as he guides you through the song. It’s romantic and one that he’s heard before, making him think of you. At long last love has arrived….And I thank God I'm alive “Are you having a good time?” He asks, desperately hopeful that you don’t hate the night with him.

"Of course I am." You're here with him, there's nothing realistic that you could think of to make it better. Realistic being the key. Those little daydreams you've had about going out to Lover's Lane with him or cuddling up under the stars? Those are just fantasies. "A--are you?"

“I am.” He nods and smiles at you. “Your dress is the prettiest one here.” You had taken his breath away and he was grateful that the corsage matched and his suit complimented it.

"Do you think so?" The pattern is a little old fashioned probably, but you love it. the flowers that you had carefully embroidered for embellishment and the few crystals that you managed to get your hands on had made you hopeful that he would like it, but your mother had scoffed that boys don't care what dress you wear. After that, even though you had finished the dress, you had been a little less giddy about it.

“It is beautiful. I cannot believe that you made it yourself.” He smiles and reaches up from your back to rub the edge of your shoulder strap. “If you wanted to, you could be a very accomplished seamstress.”

"Maybe I'll just make my own dresses." You beam at him, unable to contain how hard you're smiling at such a compliment. "Dinner dresses to go out in. Or even my wedding dress one day."

“It would be breathtaking.” His heart pounds in his chest thinking about your wedding day. Painfully wishing that he was the lucky man who got to meet you in front of the priest.

"Not that...that I think that will happen any time soon." Mostly because you can't picture the day at all with anyone but him, and he doesn't seem to like you that way. Even all through the nice dinner he took you to before the dance tonight, he hadn't tried to hold your hand or anything. Which is okay. It's not like you don't know that boys don't like you. But you're trying not to lose hope before the night is over.

“No, you must get through college first.” Max insists seriously. “It is important that you establish your dreams first.” Max decides that he will become wealthy before he asks you out, not wishing for you to pity him. He had been so nervous tonight he couldn’t form the words to ask you to the movies, even though he wanted to.

"I've been waiting for the right time to tell you." Deciding that this is it - this moment, this dance, this song, you are absolutely beaming at him. "I spoke with the financial department at Sarah Lawrence yesterday. They're actually going to give me enough scholarships and grants that I can manage it."

“What?” Max gasps, lighting up. “That’s great.” He lunges forward to hug you tightly, excited that you were getting to have your dream despite your mother trying to sabotage you.

“It’s all thanks to you.” You hug him back tightly, nearly giggling with excitement. “I never could have gotten it all done alone.”

"You could have." He protests, but he beams at your praise. "We will both have our college degrees in no time and I will know a famous publisher and you will know a powerful businessman."

Know. You will know each other. Nothing more. You try so hard not to let your smile dim and end up clinging to him a little harder. If you weren't so terrified of losing him altogether then you wouldn't care what the other girls said. You could live with being considered 'fast' for kissing him first if you were just brave enough.

You seem so happy by the prospect, he bites his lip and wonders if he imagines that you sometimes look at him like you want to kiss him. Perhaps it is just his own wants projecting onto you, he has a habit of doing that, but he cannot help it with you. If he had one person in the world to save, it would be you. Whispering your name, he gathers the shreds of his courage and presses slightly closer to you.

For a second you can't tell if it's your imagination or if the world really has stopped moving around you. Your vision has narrowed down to just him and he's filled your other senses -- but when does he not? When do you ever think of anyone in the whole world before Max? Sometimes you could swear he thinks of you as more than just a friend, and right now his hands grasping you a little tighter has your heart jumping directly into your throat as it starts to beat wildly out of control.

Staring into your eyes, Max wets his lips, finding them suddenly dry and chapped. He doesn't want your (hopefully) first kiss to be dry. He swallows again and decides to go for it. His fingers flex on your hip and his eyes drop down to your lips as he leans in more. "Ladies and gentleman! It is time to crown our prom King and Queen!"

The sheer volume of the announcement has you both jumping out of your skins, startling apart from each other like a cartoon and breaking the moment. You could have sworn that he was inching closer to you. He looked like he was going to kiss you. And now you've completely lost it.

Max's heart sinks down to his toes and he gives you a small smile before the two of you turn towards the stage. Cursing himself for not being fast enough, the moment is gone and with it, his courage.

******

“Did you have fun tonight?” Walking from the subway stop to your apartment building, you have your hands once again shoved into your pockets in that long-established custom of keeping yourself from reaching for him. A few margaritas each has you feeling loose and relaxed, but it isn’t like you’re not in control of yourself.

"It was really fun." Max sounds bewildered, as if he was surprised that having drinks with your co-workers, his co-workers could be a pleasant time. "I see why you like her." He still feels bad that he hadn't noticed it before, but he's trying to be there for you.

"Bars are girls?" You ask him, wondering why he gave a building a pronoun. Maybe it's one of those weird things like how cars and ships are female somehow.

"Nooooooo." He manages to giggle slightly, fully feeling the effects of the alcohol now. "Not the bar." He snorts and nearly trips over a piece of the sidewalk that has lifted up and he stumbles forward before straightening and looking down in bewilderment. "Kim."

"Did you not like her before tonight?" If he had disliked her you hadn't noticed, and that makes you feel a bit silly. But the silly might also be the couple of margaritas you had.

"No, I like her." He shakes his head, not willing to let you think he doesn't like your crush. "I think that she's nice. I see why you like her." He stresses. "I'm jealous."

"Why are you jealous?" That makes you frown very deeply, and your nose wrinkles. "She's just my friend." Not your best friend, or anything more -- like you've always considered him to be.

"I can't help it." Max hangs his head and his shoulders round slightly. "I will get past it. Support you."

"Stop." At the front door of your walk up, you swing around in front of him and put both hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stand a little bit taller and actually look at you. "What are you talking about? Support me how?"

"By being happy for you." He frowns and motions towards you like it should be obvious.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Your head drops and shakes animatedly, a pout turning down the points of your lips. "I'm fine, I guess? But I'm not...happy happy."

"Because you have not told her." Max nods, understanding and reaches out and takes your hand. "You must, otherwise you will live with regret. Like I do."

He isn't making any sense, but his large hand covering yours is warm and making you fuzzier than even the tequila had. "I should tell Kim that she's my friend?" You ask, trying to understand him. "She knows that already."

"No." Max winces and shakes his head. "You should tell her that...." he closes his eyes, in pain for the lost chance, or maybe the chance that never was. His unrequited heart aching. "That you love her." He whispers.

The swirling confusion that started at your toes and went all the way up to fogging your brain stops dead, and all of a sudden you're standing up - stone sober - in front of Max with a clarity that makes you feel more foolish than you ever have in your life. More foolish than the first time you ever met a lesbian, way back in college. "But..." you look at him with resignation in you somewhere. "I don't. I mean she's my friend and I love her platonically but...did you think I was gay this whole time?"

"You shouldn't have to hide it." Max swallows and opens his eyes. "I figured it out, it- it hurts because I know that my feelings would never be returned, and I wondered if I imagined the times you looked like you wished- it doesn't matter. All that matters is that I am your friend and I will be here for you. Be your friend, no matter if I am jealous."

If the last revelation hadn't instantly sobered you, this one certainly would. You're practically gawking at him in the middle of the sidewalk as people move around you in all directions. "What feelings?" You insist - demand - feeling your heart strangle in your chest so tightly it could rip into pieces.

His shoulders round again and he sends you a look that is a mixture of humiliation, apology and heartache. "Please don't- I had tried so hard to move on from you in college, to pretend that it didn't matter that you would never date poor Max." He chokes out. "You- you have been exactly like you were in high school, of course my infatuation with you came back."

"Is this some kind of joke?" You never thought that Max would be cruel enough to pull a practical joke this personal on you, but your hands retract and you cross them over your chest like a very poor set of armor. "If it is, it's mean, and I never thought you were mean. But pretending you had a crush on me when I've spent my entire life in love with you is just cruel."

Max frowns, unsure of what you mean when he has just told you his feelings, but he swallows harshly. "I- I didn't- I'm sorry." He gulps, having completely missed your confession of love. "I know you don't - it's - I can't help it. You have always been the girl I wish I kissed that night at prom." He murmurs quietly, shoulders slumping even more and he turns to walk away, sure that you want nothing to do with him now.

It's too much to process and yet your mind gets through it at lightning speed. Fast enough with your reflexes to throw yourself through the other door of your apartment building and end up in front of him, your body is reacting a lot faster than you can even tell it to. He's barely inside the lobby before you're in front of him, and both of your hands hit his chest at the exact same time. Grasping the collar of his shirt to bring him down to you, this is the moment of boldness that all missed opportunities has been building to. If you miss this, you miss everything. And unlike prom, there is no dj to interrupt you this time when you pull him down to you and press your lips to his.

The alcohol and the melancholy fade instantly and his eyes widen, his groan of surprise loud against your lips but he doesn't pull away. He can't. Not when he has you pressed up against him and kissing him. His arms snake around your body and he pulls you close, deepening the kiss and feeling you melt against him.

It seems completely impossible for this to be happening, but he has deepened the kiss instead of pushing you away, letting you slide your tongue along the seam of his lips and inviting you inside the map the contours of his mouth the way you've dreamt of ten thousand times. Your hands clutch each other inelegantly, holding on for dear life, but you don't care how awkward it looks from the outside - you've been waiting for this moment for more than twenty years.

All he can think of is you. How you sound, how you taste. So much better than his imagination twenty years ago and even just today. Unable to believe that this is real as he fulfills a fantasy he never thought he would get to have.

In true city-life fashion, what breaks you apart is not a lack of enthusiasm, but the grumbling of a loud neighbor who shouts, "Get a room!" As he storms out the front door with his arms thrown up in disgust, as though two people kissing is the most offensive thing he has seen in his entire life.

Max flushes and looks back at you, wondering how you feel about the kiss that was just shared and his heart is pounding in his chest. “I- what was that?” He asks, unable to stop the goofy grin from spreading across his face.

"It's what I wish I had done in high school," you admit, the adrenaline making your heart beat wildly in your ears as you seem to vibrate in place. "What I wish I had done every single day. I was scared my whole life, Max. But then I finally said it and you didn't hear me and that scared me more than anything else in the world. That I could have told you and you still didn't know."

“You- you like me?” He asks dumbly, shaking his head and points to himself. “Me?”

"Yes, you." But since Max has had as terrible a time believing in his own self-worth as you have, there is no bite to your insistence. "Since well before senior year, if I'm honest. But courage isn't my strong suit."

“I- you don’t like Kim?” He frowns in confusion and closes his eyes. “Me. You like me. You’ve liked me.” He repeats softly. “Why?”

"Because...even though we were different we had important things in common. We had a whole town and our own families telling us to give up on our dreams and we worked our way up from the dirt. Both of us. You're...you're so smart, Max. And so much sweeter than you have ever given yourself credit for. And unbearably handsome, even when we were teenagers and everyone was some kind of gawky and awkward. You just...you made me want to be a better, stronger person." You shrug slightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious all over again, and shove your hands back in your pockets. "I always thought if I learned enough about the world and showed you I could be as smart as you that you might...you might think I could be more than just your friend. But when you came home from college you would always tell me about other girls and I just...I figured that if I had ever had a chance, I lost it on prom night."

“I didn’t think I had a chance.” Max admits quietly. “Believe me, I wanted you. You were just always way too good for me.” He shrugs his shoulders and shoves his own hands in his pockets. “I was lying about the girls. No one was talking to me. Not until Genji. I was trying to impress you, but you just seemed to be okay with it, so I thought you were just my friend.”

“I just wanted you to be happy,” you murmur, wishing you had been better at seeing the signs or braver about asserting your own desire. “Even if it was with someone else…even if it broke my heart.”

“I wish I had told you how I felt. Alistair could have been ours together. But I would not have wanted you to leave me like Genji.” Max murmurs.

“I wouldn’t have left.” He may not believe you, but it’s true. Some people would probably call you blind with devotion. Maybe it is? Who knows. “When you were up there…Doing your broadcast?” The breath you let out is shaky at best. “I just kept wishing you could hear me. That that might make a difference to you somehow…I guess it didn’t work.”

Max frowns slightly and tilts his head. “What was I supposed to hear? There was one voice in my head that kept telling me to be happy.”

“To remember your happiness?” You look up at him with such hope that it is almost too much, but you can’t help it. “Maybe it was conceited of me. Or desperate. I just wanted you to remember that people love you as you are.”

“To remember my happiness.” Max nods. The influx of emotions and wishes were much more than he had anticipated and it seemed to jumble together at one point but that voice stood out. “That is...something I am working on.” He admits quietly.

"If that isn't me...or you don't want to..." Looking around reminds you that you are very much in public still and you press your lips together nervously. "Maybe we should talk about this upstairs?"

“Upstairs. Yes, upstairs.” He glances around and flushes slightly. “We should talk upstairs. And I can let Señora go home. Alistair should be asleep.”

When you make it up to his apartment, Señora Ramos is watching a movie on tv without a care in the world. Alistair apparently tired himself out reading an hour ago and all has been quiet since.

“So-“ as soon as the door closes behind Señora Ramos, Max is nervous and claps his hands together. Feeling vulnerable now that you know everything. “Do you….want….” He looks around. “A drink! Do you want a drink?”

“Maybe just water.” After the amount you both had earlier, and what you have to talk about, you want a chance to clear your head.

“Water is good.” He agrees, bobbling his head and rushing towards the small, galley style kitchen that he was lucky to have. Some apartments didn’t even have a kitchen.

“Max…” Leaning against the counter, you take down two glasses and slide them over to him. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about.”

“Sure I do.” Max snorts, opening the freezer to grab the ice tray. “It’s not like you tell the girl you’ve had a crush on since you were twelve that you thought she was a lesbian.”

“I’m still wondering why you thought that.” Mostly out of curiosity, of course. Though the news that he’s liked you as long as you’ve liked him is both satisfying and a little bittersweet. You could have had something so long ago if just one of you had been brave.

“You said that Kim is the person that you most enjoyed, you never talk about any men, now or back in school.” He shrugs, mildly embarrassed. “I know that people have been….more open….than they were back when we were close. Maybe…I don’t know, maybe I thought it made sense.”

“I never talked about boys I liked to you because I’ve always liked you.” It isn’t exactly an easy thing to admit to him, but the cat is very much out of the bag at this point. “Kim has been my closest friend for a long time. I absolutely adore her. But my love for her isn’t romantic. She’s like the sister I never had.”

"I am foolish." Max hangs his head and sighs. "I am sorry." He murmurs quietly.

“Please don’t be.” Stepping cautiously closer to him in his little kitchen, you take the glass of water he hands you and have a sip. “If you hadn’t thought so, you might not have said anything. And then we never would have come clean.”

He hadn't looked at it that way and he bites his lip as he watches you. "What do you want?" He asks softly, still irrationally fearful of rejection, but also hopeful.

It’s a vague question, but the context is so specific. Specific enough that you are shocked he feels the need to ask, but grateful that he isn’t simply assuming. “Ideally?” You ask, and wait for him to nod shyly. “I want what I’ve always wanted. To be with you. But I understand if that’s too much to ask.”

"I- you know that people hate me, no?" He asks, scrunching up his brows. "Mi amor, it would be hell to be with me. Are you sure that is what you want?"

It isn’t a trick question, but you put down your water after another sip and hoist yourself up to sitting on the edge of the counter. “I want you to respect me. To love me and treat me well, and listen to my day regardless of whether it was good or bad. I want you to trust me and talk to me and confide in me and be silly with me. I don’t give a damn what anybody else thinks of you. Be a good partner to me and I’ll be one to you, and that’s all that matters.”

"I do respect you." He promises. "I wasn't a good partner, not to Genji, but I want to be one. I will be one for you." He knows that he has made mistakes, but he feels like he won't make them again. His ideas for success have changed and as long as he can take care of his son and provide him with a happy, safe childhood, he will consider himself blessed.

"Then that's all I need to know." The shy smile on your lips tips up the corners of your mouth and you shrug guiltily. "Almost all." You admit when he gives you an incredulous look. "I also kinda want to know if you meant it when you called me amor a second ago..."

His eyes widen when he realizes his slip of the tongue and his tan complexion darkens further as he flushes in embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say it, but it was something that he thought often. "Yes." He admits quietly, but his shoulders don't round. "I did."

“Then that’s all I need to know.” You know your cheeks are burning but you truly don’t care. This is more than half a lifetime of pining coming to a head right now and you are so unbelievably touched that you aren’t the only one that has held onto the flame this long. It makes it special in a very unconventional way - as if you were being rewarded somehow.

He doesn't quite understand what you might be thinking but he nods. "Yes." He murmurs, wondering what he could say right now that would be interesting and flirty.

“So…” You shift slightly on the counter and tilt your head at him. “Are you sure you want to be with me, then?”

Max has had to bluff his way through many meetings, promising things that he couldn’t give the men who wanted to invest with him, or were thinking of investing with him. He doesn’t use that smarmy, painted on charm to reassure you. This time, it’s his own thin courage that has him stepping closer and reaching out to hold onto your waist as he steps closer again. “Yes.” His voice breaks softly from how low it dips. His lips curving up slightly. “Very sure.”

"Better late than never, right?" The warmth of his hands seeps through your clothes, waking up every inch of your skin and making you sit up a little straighter as he comes closer. That little smile of his is contagious.

“Only a lifetime of regret and enough stories to fill a book.” Max snorts.

"Some things are good enough to slog through all the hell for," you remind him softly. "It gave you Alistair."

“It brought me back to you. As well.” He reminds you, smiling at the thought. “But I want to do something else right now.”

"Oh you do, do you?" There is a distinctly boyish - maybe even mischievous - expression on his face that you've never seen before and it works for him. "What would that be?"

“I want to kiss you.” He admits, leaning in and his eyes flicker to yours. “Can I kiss you?” You had kissed him before, so he wants to do this.

It's beyond you to not be excited about it, even more than a little giddy as you nod and let your legs naturally slide apart to make a place for him to stand between them at the counter. "As much as you want."

He steps forward again, this time fitting himself in the space you allocated for him and leans in more, pressing the evidence of his desire against your belly as he cups your cheek and drops his lips onto yours.

The first press is soft but sure, and you almost startle feeling him press so obviously against you, but it is delicious. Instead of drawing away or jumping back or politely pretending not to notice, you lean in that much more surely and trap his hard on between both of your bodies. You may not have soaked through your panties just yet, but the heat rolling off of you is unmistakable. as unmistakable as your enthusiasm for kissing him again.

Groaning, he’s happy you don’t push him away. Instead you’re pulling him closer and his arms are wrapping around you to deepen the kiss.

Your knees bracket his hips, holding him tight against you and letting yourselves get lost in the moment. It's slower this time, deepening less frantically but no less ardently. Twenty years of wanting from both of you is being poured into this moment and you'll be damned if you're going to rush it.

He doesn’t try to push this beyond a kiss, although he aches to. He has no idea how long he leans into you, making out with you as if you are teenagers again.

No one could accuse either of you of a lack of enthusiasm. If you had not already been sitting on this counter you might have swept everything off of it just to get him to sit you here, enjoying what easy access you have to all of the most important parts of him. Access that - despite the fact that you have absolutely soaked through your panties and probably your pants as well - you don't know if you should be taking. Pulling yourself back from the edge of control and catching your breath is tricky, but you focus your eyes on him and feel your heart skip that all-important beat. "Max..." As much as you want to whine, your voice pitches down to be soft and rasping. "Is it too fast to ask if I can touch you?"

He’s conflicted. Not because he thinks it’s too fast, but he’s still coming to terms with the idea you want him. “You-“ he clears his throat when his voice breaks again. “You can do whatever you want to me.” He answers honestly.

"Then we should not stay in this kitchen." The grin you flash him is mischievous but oh so promising, and your hands slide up his shoulders to let your fingers just touch the trim edge of his hair. "Take me to bed, Max."

______

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